Self Portrait: The 54th annual Hunger Games
by betttyy
Summary: President Arabelle Sawyer's life is a mess. She doesn't know how to balance her personal life and the presidency. The citizens of Panem are reaching their boiling point and she can feel another rebellion coming on. She has one last chance to prove to the people that she knows what she is doing. Can she pull herself together and make the 54th hunger games the best one yet? Closed.
1. The rebels are coming

_When you try your best but you don't succeed,_

 _When you get what you want but it's not what you need_

 _When you feel so tired but you can't sleep_

* * *

 **Arabelle Sawyer, 29.**

 **President of Panem.**

Another day on the job. Being in charge of a country full of citizens that think I am incapable of being in office. Sure, I may not have everything together and I may need to turn to my husband a lot when things get stressful but I worked so hard to get here and all I can do is try my best.

I pile my long brown hair onto the top of my head and secure it with the pen that I was holding in between my teeth. I have been sitting in this chair in my office for hours on end thinking about what needs to happen the draw the lovely people on Panem back in. My dark mahogany desk takes up most of my office and right now there are papers scattered all over it. I am spinning in circles in the big black chair the towers over me trying to make a decision. Nothing is coming to my mind. I am drawing a blank and that frustrates me more than having bad ideas.

"Babe, let's start making our way back home." My husband Berkley is my rock. My mom always said that it was going to take someone special to put up with me. He is my special someone. He is not even officially in charge of anything but he is the first person I turn to when I have a hard decision to make. He stays with me in the office all hours of the night until he knows that I'm okay.

"I have so much to do." I tell him putting my head into my hands. "These people know that I haven't been the one making the decisions and they are mad. Berk, I have gotten an uncountable amount of death threats today. It's really getting under my skin." I walk towards him and wrap my arms around his neck. "Well, that is even more of an excuse for us to get out of the office and go relax," he says giving me a smolder. He kisses my neck and I can already feel myself unwinding. "Not tonight, babe. I'm exhausted." I smile at him and he nods understandingly.

I gather up all of my essentials and shove them into my bag. Organization is for people who don't have personal lives. Berkley switches the light switch off and holds open the door for me. I take one look back into my office before closing the door and turning the lock.

I get back to my room and fall onto the bed. I am too tired to change my clothes or take off my makeup so I just climb under the blankets and let my hair down.

"Arabelle, baby. Wake up." Berkley comes running in the room throwing my shoes at me. "We need to go." his face is panic stricken.

"What is going on?" I scream sleepily.

Berkley quickly turns the tv on and rushes into our closet to throw some more of his prized possessions into a duffle bag.

 _"Someone has set fire to the Presidential Mansion. Authorities are calling this an attack on the President and as of right now, the Capitol is shut down. The assailant left a message in big green letters on the sidewalk in front of the mansion. "The wicked bitch is dead." There is no word from the President at this time."_

The news anchor tucks her hair behind her ear as she finishes her segment. My mouth is agape and I am too stunned to move.

"Babe, go!" Berkley shouts.

I rush into my closet and grab my go bag that I have prepared at all times and throw it over my shoulder. I slip back into my black stilettos, grab Berkley's hand and we rush out of the mansion. A black SUV is waiting for us outside in the back of the secret exit.

I turn around and look back at the place I have called home. It is burning to the ground, along with my presidential career.

* * *

 _ **He**_ **llo you beautiful humans, and welcome to my next SYOT. I have such a cool idea for this story and I really hope that y'all will submit now that you know I stick with my stories. :P There will be a form on my profile. I'm wanting to get this started pretty quickly so submit away. :)**

 **Caleb and I also have a collaboration going on. The story is called Thunder and Lightning and it's already been so much fun. You should totally submit to it. There is a form on both of our profiles.**

 **I will be working on this story while Caleb is away in Australia this summer and I am really pumped.**

 **What did you think?**

 **XOXO**

 **Jenna.**


	2. Ready to Run

_Just might be paranoid_

 _I'm avoiding the lines_

 _Cause they just might split_

 _Can someone stop the noise?_

 _I don't know what it is_

 _But I just don't fit_

 _I'm paranoid_

* * *

 **Arabelle Sawyer, 29.**

 **President of Panem.**

" _The presidential mansion is officially no more. The west wing fell to the ground in hot fiery ashes at approximately 5:43 early this morning, leaving nothing but the concrete molding that surrounded the house. Still no word from our lovely president, but once again, no one is surprised. The suspect is still at large. There will be a very lump sum reward if anyone can provide any details that might help us to get to the bottom of this heinous act."_

Tears stream down my already mascara streaked face as I click the off button on the large remote. I knew people talked poorly of me in private and on the streets but I really did expect better of the news crew in Panem. I make a mental note to have that man fired for saying those horrible things about me. Watching my house burn to the ground isn't especially how I would normally choose to spend a Saturday morning, yet here I am, watching my whole time tumble in front of my eyes.

Our driver took me and Berkley to our second home far outside of the Capitol. It is nestled in a very secluded area and is surrounded by mountains and large trees. I find solace in the chirping of the birds and soft hum of the different insects out here. I feel safe away from the hustle and bustle of everything. However, just because I am not in the presidential mansion, doesn't mean my duties as president have just magically flown out of the window, as much as I wish that they would sometimes.

"Belle, you have got to stop watching that. All that you are doing is hurting yourself." Berkley hands me a cup of tea and sits down next to me on the floral print couch. Light is streaming in through the big glass windows.

"The fifty-fourth hunger games are going to start soon, Berk. As much as I really hate them and wish that I didn't have to do them, I took an oath and I refuse to let the previous President down. I gave him my word." I say, softly blowing on my tea.

"I know, babe. The people are just starting to rebel because they know that you are a softy and they think that this behavior will help to get rid of the games once and for all. You need to stand your ground, especially right now," he says pulling me into his lap and wrapping his arms around my midriff.

"I know, that. I'm not some weak woman that people can just walk all over. I just don't know how to handle it when hundreds of people slander my name and come to my house and try to kill me." I say getting as close to him as I possibly can.

"Well, this is your time to shine, baby. Get together with the Head Gamemaker and plan the best hunger games that Panem has ever seen." He kisses my forehead. "I believe in you," he whispers.

"I knew that I married you for a reason." I joke quickly pecking him on the lips.

I pull my phone out of my black leather tote bag and find Darrah's name.

" _We have things to talk about, my driver will pick you up at seven o'clock._

 _Arabelle."_

My fingers fly across the bright keys on my phone as I hurry and send the text. I throw my phone to the side and close my eyes, enjoying the peace and quiet while it lasts.

* * *

 _Think about the love inside the strength of heart_

 _Think about the heroes saving life in the dark_

 _Climbing higher through the fire, time was running out_

 _Never knowing you weren't going to be coming down alive_

* * *

 **Darrah Crandall, 33**

 **Head Gamemaker**

President Sawyer is a nit wit. Don't get me wrong, she is definitely a sweetheart, but if it were up to her we would all have to tell everyone that we loved each other at least five times a day or we would be put in a cell full of cuddly stuffed animals for an hour and that just doesn't sit well with me. She is a great person and she has a good heart, but those are things that shouldn't be the first priority when running a country.

The last hunger games was such a success that I have no idea if what a person like Arabelle Sawyer has up her sleeve, will even come remotely close to being a good games. Technically I am supposed to be in charge of this but I have no problem letting her take over and for me to just orchestrate the whole thing. If she wants a shot to show Panem what she's got then this is definitely it.

There is a knock on my door at seven o'clock on the dot. I check myself out in the mirror one last time as I walk by it. My long black hair is sitting in perfect ringlet curls and the rouge on my cheeks makes my dark complexion stand out against my white dress. I look good, and not a single part of me is ashamed to admit that. I strut outside to the black SUV with tinted windows and hop in. The driver speeds off leaving a trail of black smoke, billowing behind us. The car leaves the city and enters the part of the Capitol where the roads are winding and the trees act as a canopy above our heads. It's amazing how leaving the concrete jungle for even hours can relax you to your core. When we finally reach our destination, the car drops me off at a big white house with a wrap-around porch. The shutters on the windows are painted blue and there are two black rocking chairs on the front porch. This has Arabelle Sawyer written all over it.

I knock on the door and she quickly opens it up and pulls me in. Her hair is in a messy bun on the top of her head and she has mascara streaks running down her face. Her beige sweater is hanging slightly off one of her shoulders and she is wearing leggings. She is definitely not the Arabelle Sawyer than I am used to seeing.

"I am so glad that you are here. I have had enough. This is getting out of hand." She throws her hands into the air. "We have a lot to discuss, I want to make this the best hunger games yet. I want people to fear me." She gets a lost look in her eyes and then smiles sweetly.

"Well, I'm here to help. I pull papers out of my briefcase and sit across from her in a royal blue armchair. "What do you have planned so far," I ask, getting ready to write.

"I want it to be…" she starts going on and on about how all she wants is to scare people back into order. She gets a strange look in her eyes as she talks about this. I can't tell if it is determination or fear.

"Ugh, this is just so hard. I just want people to think of me as any other president," she says putting her head in her hands.

"Belle, you cried with a commercial with a duck came on, because it made you happy You are a softie and it's nothing to be ashamed of. I love that about you." Berkley chimes in. She blows him a kiss. They are all over each other all the time and to be quite honest, it makes me sick. Love is only in the movies, not in real life. At least, not for me.

"Well, I guess that will wrap it up for tonight. I have a lot to think about. We will meet again tomorrow." she says wiping her eyes on her sweater, leaving black marks all over the sleeves.

"I'm gonna go take a shower, have a safe ride home," she smiles, softly. She rises from the couch and stops to look out the window. The sun is setting and the sky is a beautiful mix of orange, red, and purple. I look down at my clipboard, getting ready to shove it in my bad when I hear the loud sound of shattering glass and a piercing scream from the President. Berkley comes running into the room.

"What the hell happened," he shouts, angrily.

"I was looking out the window, admiring the sunset when the glass just shattered. I don't know what happened. She is lying on the floor with her arms over her head and for the third time today, she is crying.

"What the hell is security doing?" Berkley huffs and pulls out his phone.

While Arabelle is a mess on the floor, I walk over the asses the damage. The bullet didn't make it all the way through the glass. It's lodged into it very tightly, though.

"When will this all end?" Arabelle cries.

"This has to be the best games yet until then you need to stay out of the public eye," I tell her, helping her off of the floor.

* * *

 **Hey, y'all. Here is the second part of my prolog! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I liked writing it. I'm very excited to get this going. Thank you for all of the submissions so far, they have been really great.**

 **You can submit anyone you like, but you have a better chance of making it in the story if you send me someone from a district that hasn't been submitted to yet. There is a list on my profile! :)**

 **Keep the submissions coming, and also, submit to my mine and my best friends Collab. It's going to be so much fun. The story is on his profile if you are interested. While you are there, you should read and review Ghost of Our Past, because it is truly amazing.**

 **Thoughts?**

 **XOXO**

 **Jenna.**


	3. Let the games Begin

_Don't let me get me, I'm my own worst enemy_

 _It's bad when you annoy yourself so irritating_

 _Don't wanna be my friend no more_

 _I wanna be somebody else_

* * *

 **AnneMarie Sutton, 31.**

 **Assistant to the President.**

Arabelle has always been too nice. Ever since we were little girls, she was going out of her way to do things for other people. I, on the other hand, have always been introverted. I want to help people, but not to the same extent that she does. That is why this job is absolutely perfect for me. I bring her hazelnut coffee with three sugars, two teaspoons of milk and a dash of honey, listen to her problems, attempt to comfort her when she has one of her diva meltdowns, and then I go home. I have always loved my job, until now. You see, I suffer from extreme paranoia. I can't help it, everything scares me and eventually I just shut down. It's always been like this, it's just something that I've learned to live with. I have always felt safe and welcome here, but now there are fires, gunshots and death threats. I'm not sure how long I can put up with it.

I pile my sandy brown hair onto the top of my head and mentally prepare myself for the day. My black pencil skirt is tight today and I find myself regretting all the fried pickles that I had eaten the night before. I wobble over to the coffee machine and wait for the strong black liquid to fill the lavender mug. The aroma of coffee fills my nostrils and I close my eyes and take a deep breath in, it smells so good. I have always been afraid of what that does to a person on the inside, so I've never tried it.

"Rise and shine, Belle!" I say quietly as I enter her room. The long black curtains are drawn, leaving the room filled with silver furniture and lavender accents very dim. Arabelle is lost under her thick lavender comforter and her black pillows. "It's time to get the day started, Belly." I say sweetly.

"Do I have to be the President today?" she groans as her head pops up from among the pillows. She lifts her eye mask off of her face and rubs her eyes. I walk over and sit down next to her, feathers fly out from her comforter as I sit.

"The reapings start tomorrow, Belle. You have a lot to do." I tread lightly, afraid of how she will respond.

"You're right!" A strange look creeps across her face and she she practically leaps out of her bed. "I am so excited! Come on, Annie. We have a lot to accomplish." she pulls my hand and leads me out into the hallway. I am thrown back into a whirlwind of memories by this simple gesture.

"Arabelle, the president is too ill to continue his ruling over Panem, your uncle has requested that you be the one to fill the seat." she squeezed my hand as her uncle's people talked to her.

"Why me?" she asked with wide eyes and a slight tremble in her voice.

"Panem needs a change, something that they have never had before and he really thinks that you would be good for the position. He doesn't want to ask anyone, he just wants you to take his place." the man with the funny black mustache said.

"Can I think about it, I don't know if I have it in me." she said.

"You have forty-five minutes and then we will need a decision, paperwork needs to be done," the man huffs. Arabelle grabs Berkley's hand and leads him out into the hallway, motioning for me to follow as well.

"Babe, what do I do? I don't want to let my uncle down, but I really don't think that I am fit for this position." she asked him.

"Belle, you can do anything that you set your mind too, I believe in you. If this is something that interests you at all, do it. I will be there to help you every step of the way." he kissed her forehead and sat down in the large red armchair. "You have been a great secretary to him all these years, you know how Panem works, babe. You can do this." he smiles.

"I guess you're right, and it might even be kind of fun." she runs her fingers through her hair as she ponders her options. I sat there shaking my head. Arabelle is to nice to run a country, she always has been. But then again, maybe that is exactly what Panem needs. Some TLC if you will.

Arabelle and Berkley quietly discussed over in the corner for way over forty-five minutes. Finally, Berkley placed a soft kiss on her hand before she entered the room by herself. I hoped she would make the right decision and turn the offer down, but deep down I knew that she wouldn't. She is in the room for a total of seven hours. Berkley is snoring in the chair and I am picking at my finger nails. Finally, the door opens.

"Ladies and Gentleman, you are looking at the new President of Panem!" She throws her hands up into the air and pops her hip out, giggling. Berkley runs up to her and spins her in circles.

"I am so proud of you!" He exclaims.

"Annie, can you believe it?" she asked, wrapping me up into a hug.

I couldn't, but not in the way that she was thinking. It was at times like these, that I wish I wasn't so afraid to speak up.

* * *

 _I can't tell if I'm winning or losing_

 _Somebody tell me what are we doing_

 _Nobody ever comes out on top_

 _Tell me are we ever gonna stop_

 _Playing these games_

* * *

 **Arabelle Sawyer,31.**

 **President of Panem.**

I'm done. Someone is obviously very unhappy with me and their most logical solution would be to try and kill me. The people of Panem think that I am too nice, they think that I'm not capable of running a country. They're wrong.

Don't get me wrong, when I first took this position, I had my reservations. I knew that Panem was becoming restless, but I didn't think that it was going to become as bad as it has gotten in the past few months. I thought that if the people of Panem were shown love and kindness instead of the rage and tyranny that my uncle was so fond of, that people would start to realize that life wasn't as bad as they thought. I had fully intended on starting plans to get rid of The Hunger Games all together. I thought that killing innocent children to prove a point was heinous and unnecessary. I had all these ideas swirling around in my head, but now people are threatening my happiness, my safety and my life. I'm just done.

If people thought that my uncle and the previous GameMakers put together astonishing, amazing and well planned arena's and games, they have another thing coming.

No more Mrs. Nice President, let the games begin.

* * *

 **Hello. :)**

 **I realize that this chapter is short and probably hella lame, but I just needed to get something out in order to make a few announcements. I am at work, so I didn't edit this chapter so please excuse any errors.**

 **Okay, I have finalized my list of tributes for this story. I received way more submissions than I ever thought that I would. In my last story, I was lucky to even fill the spots that I needed but with this one, I actually had to make choices and it was really hard for me. If your tributes didn't make the list, it's nothing personal at all and I hope that you will still read. The list will be posted on my profile later this afternoon and hopefully the district one reaping will be posted tonight as well. I'm super excited to get this story going.**

 **I hope you enjoyed the last prologue, we won't be seeing Arabelle for awhile.**

 **You have eight days left to get your submissions to Thunder and Lightning in, submit away. :)**

 **XOXO**

 **Jenna**


	4. District one reapings

**Trigger warning: This chapter is going to involve sexual and verbal abuse. If that is something that you are sensitive to, skip over Alleluia's POV's. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy the first reaping chapter! :)**

* * *

 _Send my love to your new lover_

 _Treat her better_

 _We've gotta let go of all of our ghosts_

 _We both know we ain't kids no more_

 _Send my love to your new lover_

* * *

 **Alleluia "Lia" Damon, 18**

 **District one female**

"Lia, Hurry up! She is going to be back any second," Shimma calls from across the flourescent pink room. My long blonde hair is hanging in my face as my fingers are scanning through the items that are messily tossed in the drawer as quickly as they can, but I can't seem to find what I am looking for.

"I just need to know what that sneaky hoe was writing!" I groan. "She was looking right at me as she scribbled in the stupid notebook. It has to be in here somewhere," I whisper, more to myself than to Shimma.

"Haven't you ever heard the saying, curiosity killed the cat?!" she says louder this time.

"Have you ever heard the phrase shut the fuck up?" I throw back at her, annoyed. I close the drawer and cross my arms over my chest. It's going to absolutely drive me insane that I don't know what is inside that raggedy looking red notebook.

Ever since I was a little girl, I guess you could say that I was overly curious. I needed to know everything about people. What they liked, what they were doing and even what they kept inside their bedside tables. It has gotten me in a lot of trouble, really. I don't mind though. It's not like I give a rats ass what people think of me anyways. If there is one thing that you should know about me, it's that I absolutely despise people. I would like to say that it's nothing personal, but it is. Shimma is really the only exception. I can't recall what started my hatred for people, maybe it's the fact that I grew up with two brothers, or maybe it has just always been a part of me. However, the past two years of my life have done nothing to help with my hatred for the general population.

Growing up, my parents were very protective. They kept me out of sports and any physical activity, really for the fear of me getting injured. I was in the Gifted and Talented Education program at school, so they wanted me to protect my brain or some shit. I wasn't having that at all, my brothers Alabaster and Royale were always allowed to do whatever they wanted without all these dumb as hell rules and regulations. I begged my parents with everything that I had in me to let me start training. They were against it for a long time, but eventually they agreed to it when I turned eleven. That is where I met Shimma. People always talked about how fast they connected when they met their best friend and I have always thought that was bullshit, but it is exactly what was my polar opposite; she is very quiet and laid back and I am, well, not. It worked though, and she has been my best friend ever since. She makes life more bearable.

I loved training. It was a place where I felt that I finally belonged. I could put all of my time and energy into one thing and it was for a good cause. I was spending every day at the training academy, from the time I was eleven until I turned eighteen. Training was my release, it cleared my mind and helped me focus all at the same time. There were no distractions there, at least until I met Micah Jameson. I remember it like it was yesterday, unfortunately.

I had just broken up with my boyfriend, needless to say, my mind was a bit distracted. I was putting all my rage and fury into my training and really letting the punching bag have it, when I met eyes with a boy from across the room. His sandy blonde was side swept and he had bright green eyes that were piercing. I was automatically intrigued and I could tell that he was too. I don't like thinking about this day, because my life would never be the same after it, but everytime I think about it, I am thrown violently down memory lane and the flashbacks won't stop.

Micah and I really hit it off. He was charming, cute, funny and I liked the fact that he was two years older than me. It seemed dangerous. I thought he was everything that I wanted in a boyfriend. Everywhere we went, people would tell us how we just looked like we were made for each other, how we were the perfect couple. I was so head over heels for this ass hat that I thought so too. I was happy with him, and he felt safe.

The light that I once saw in Micah's eyes started to diminish and things started to change. It all started one day when we were watching TV in my room. We got into a small argument over the fact that I didn't want to mess around. He started saying these terrible things. I close my eyes and the flashback starts.

"You are ridiculous, come on Lia," he said playfully at first.

"No, I'm not in the mood right now, maybe later." I placed a kiss on his forehead and started to roll off of the maroon Victorian style couch. "I'll get us some water," I said. Before I could get up though, his hand was gripping my long blonde ponytail.

"This is why you're only my little experiment, you're not good for anything else." He dragged my face close to his and then pushed me away forcefully, before getting up and leaving. I should have run to my mom and dad and told them what happened, but I was scared and to stunned to move. He sent me a text message later apologizing and promising that he would never be like that with me again. I should have listened to my gut and started running for the hills, but you know what they say; love is blind.

At first, some days would be totally fine. The attacks would only be verbally, and they would come days or even weeks apart. The day that the attacks changed from verbal to so much more though is forever going to be etched deep into my brain.

I was standing in my room, perfecting my blonde curls with my favorite curling wand. Micah was standing by the bed. He walk going on and on about some girl from the training academy. Hearing him talk about other girls in front of me stung, but I didn't dare say anything to him. I didn't know he was looking in my direction, so I rolled my eyes before I continued putting mascara on.

Micah walked over to me and grabbed me by the straps of my royal blue tank top. He tossed me aggressively down onto my own bed, like I was a piece of trash.

"You will never be good enough, Lia. All you are good for is my experimental games. You think someone is actually going to want your tainted, used and filthied body after I'm done with you?" he spat as he shoved my head down into a pillow and began stripping me of not only my clothes, but my dignity as well. This was the first of many times that Micah took advantage of me. It was like I wasn't even in my body, my conscience floated somewhere else. Somewhere happy and safe.

This went on for almost a full year. Micah let me know at every chance that he could get that nobody was going to want me and that I would never amount to anything. He assaulted me and every single time as he was putting his clothes back on, he would tell me that If I told anyone, that he would kill me and my family. I never wanted to put my family at risk, so I kept quiet.

One night, my mom and I were in the kitchen cooking dinner. I accidentally let it slip out, that Micah had been rough with me, but I didn't go into very much detail. My mom, being the very protective woman that she is, notified the Peacekeepers. I never saw Micah again. I guess he is locked up now. He will never be able to tell me that I'm not good enough again, he will never be able to hurt me again, and he will certainly never be able to dictate my life ever again. However, just because he is locked up, doesn't mean that his face and his cruel words don't haunt my dreams every single night.

Micah definitely sent my hatred for the general population soaring to an all time high, I know that people say for the most people are generally good, but that is utter bullshit. People are cruel and selfish.

As terrible as the whole situation with Micah was, it taught me a lot about myself. It made me train harder than ever, for the last three months before the Reapings. I am going to volunteer, and prove not only to myself but also to Micah, that I am good enough. I am a strong girl, and no fuckboy is going to make me think less of myself. If he think that I can't do this, or that I won't amount to anything, he has another thing coming.

* * *

 _I cannot stop this sickness taking over_

 _It takes control and drags me into nowhere_

 _I need your help, I can't fight this forever_

 _I know you're watching,_

 _I can feel you out there_

* * *

 **Valour Clos, 17.**

 **District one male**

Every person has an idea of how they want their life to be. We picture it in our heads whether we like to admit that or not. We have an idea of who we should be and the things that we should do. Unfortunately, most of the time the picture that we have in our head gets squashed. Everybody has problems, some more than others. Life gets to be overbearing though, when your problem dictates every movement in your life and makes you feel like there is a boulder sitting on your chest.

"Did you hear that?" I ask frantically, looking over my shoulder. I don't hear anything, but someone had to have been behind me, I can feel it.

"Dude, you're good. There was no one there. A bush just moved or something," Lux states, patting me on my shoulder reassuringly. I tug on the long sleeves of my blue shirt and grip the ends tightly in my hands, looking around one more time before taking a deep breath and refocusing.

Ever since I was a young boy, everyone has been out to get me, or so I thought. My mom says that when I was younger it was way worse, but even now, some days are an absolute struggle. I guess they call it paranoia. I call it being cautious.

"Lift your sleeves," Lux orders, looking at me with wide eyes. Lux is my best friend, he is good at calming me down and helping to ease my nerves. A lot of other people get annoyed, frustrated and even angry when I have one of those days, but not Lux. He is patient and helps me refocus my energy on training, which is exactly what I need to be doing. I lift my sleeve and expose the scabs and scratch marks.

"I thought you were doing better, man," he says looking disappointed.

"I am. I think that with the reapings coming up so soon, that my nerves are just kicking in again." I say, returning the cuff of my sleeve to my palm. When I was eight, I discovered that scratching and picking at my skin made my paranoia halt, it didn't go away completely, but it put it at ease. Every time that things would get of hand, the pain from picking at my skin would take my mind off of it..

My parents noticed that I was becoming more and more paranoid, but they didn't really think anything of it until the night that all hell broke loose. I was ten years old, I felt alone but surrounded at the same time. They were watching me, they were all around me but they wouldn't speak. I could just feel their eyes piercing into my back everytime that I turned around. I put my hands over my eyes and cuddled under my thick blue comforter with trains on it and began to wail. My parents heard me sobbing and screaming about how they were always watching and came running in. They saw all the scars on my arms and from that point on, they made me wear long sleeves and shirts with collars to ensure that I wasn't harming myself. I guess wearing them is just a habit now though. Anyways, they kept a close eye on my until I was twelve and then they enrolled me in training, hoping that it would distract me and give me something to put all my nerves into.

I reach my house and fist bump Lux, before entering.

"See you tomorrow, Lux," I shout before slamming the door. I walk through the house and pull all of the drawstrings, closing the blinds. It's just part of my routine, especially when I am home alone.

I throw on some work out clothes, slide my blonde hair to the side of my head and splash some water on my face before heading to training for the night. I'm almost never home, training is my entire life. My parents are sad that I'm almost never around, but they know that this is best for me.

When I'm in the training academy, nothing else matters. It's like paranoia and nerves don't even exist. With every punch thrown and every new skill learned, I feel like I can take on anything. Even the people who are watching. I have always been a very focused person. When I set my mind to something, there is absolutely nothing that can distract me from achieving the outcome that I desire. I will focus on that one thing until it's all I can think about. It encompasses my thoughts and gives me the confidence that I know that I desperately need. I know that I will do well in the Hunger Games, if I put my mind to it. I better, after all the time that I have put into this.

"Valour! Good to see you! How's it going?" My trainer asks shaking her head, as I am going ham on a punching bag.

"Hey! I'm really good tonight! Just getting in some last minute training before tomorrow." I smile at her, wiping away a small bead of sweat that is rolling down my face.

"I see that, you seem like you are in a great mood. However, I think I've seen you more this week, than I have seen my own reflection. You should head home and get some rest," she says taking the gloves from my hands and setting them down on the ground.

"Is resting going to get me Victor?" I wink at her and she laughs.

"Seriously, it's late. Get a move on, bud," she takes the gloves and heads to a locker room nearby. I decide not to fight it, and give in. I haven't been sleeping as much as I should be, and tomorrow is a big day.

Most people assume that because I am usually a ball of nerves, that I can't be friendly and maintain normal conversations. That isn't the case at all, I have plenty of acquaintances. I guess you could say that I am an acquired taste though, and it takes a very patient person to stick around. Most of my normal conversations, happen here.

I pack up all my things and start my journey home. The district is eerily quiet at this time of night. The only sound besides the soft hum of the occasional passing car, is the whoosh of the wind through the trees. The street lights are scattered, creating a somber glow on the black pavement. I grip the cuffs of my black sweat shirt in my palms and cover my head with the hood, and start walking.

I've always been scared of the dark, that is when I feel that they are watching the most. If these street lights weren't here, there is no doubt that I would be having a panic attack right now. I adjust my headphones in my ears and nod my head along with the beat, looking over my shoulder every now and then just out of habit.

The sound of a leaf scattering across the pavement startles me, and I begin to walk faster. There is a loud noise behind me and it sends me into a jog. The noise is getting closer and closer and no matter how fast I run, it doesn't go away. I'm too afraid to look over my shoulder so I keep my head straight and focus on getting home. I can feel the eyes watching me as I lift my sleeve and start picking at my skin. By the time I make it to my front door, I am out of breath and sweating. I throw the door open and slam it shut behind me, turning the lock and checking it three times. I lean back against the door and slide down to the floor, putting my head in my hands.

I don't know what was out there, but I sure as hell don't want to find out. I head to my bedroom to attempt to get some sleep, checking over my shoulder every step of the way.

* * *

 _This was all you, none of it me_

 _You put your hands on, on my body and told me_

 _You told me you were ready_

 _For the big one, for the big jump_

 _I'd be your last love everlasting, you and me_

* * *

 **Alleluia "Lia" Damon, 18.**

 **District one female**

"Are you sure that you are okay?" My mom asks me, watching me perfect my blonde hair in the mirror.

"Mom, I'm not a weak bitch, I've got it covered," I smile at her in the mirror.

"Watch your language, Lia," she says, rolling her eyes.

"Excuse the hell out of me, mom. Today is a big day for me. Today is the day that I get to show what I'm all about. I get to prove that even when bad things happen to good people, it doesn't keep them down, it makes them come back stronger and with a vengeance.

"I just want to make sure that you aren't doing this just to prove a point to… him," my mom says teary eyed.

"I promise that I'm not, that crusty asshole can rot in prison for the rest of his life for all I care. He got what was coming to him, and I'm honestly fine mom, like I said, I am a strong ass bitch and I can handle it," I walk over to the bed and give her a hug.

"I am so proud of you, Lia. You handled this whole situation so well. You have managed to keep a positive attitude throughout the whole process. You forgave him and let it roll of your back," she smiles at me and adjusts one of my curls.

If only she knew, I hate him with every fiber of my being. I will never forgive him for what he put me through. He is the scum of the earth, but he is locked up in prison so there isn't a whole lot that I can do about getting my revenge. Doing well in the Hunger Games, would be a good start though.

My curious personality had gotten the best of me last week. I ended up calling the prison to see if the prisoners got to watch from inside the cold, white brick building. The woman on the phone sounded annoyed by my question, but once I get a question in my head, there is nothing that will make it go away unless it is an answer. She finally caved and told me that they did. Micah is going to see me kill it in there, quite literally, and I'm going to look good as hell doing it.

"Bye, Jubilee," I say addressing my mother by her name and kissing her cheek. She grabs my wrist and pulls me back into a hug.

"Please, don't do it. You have been through enough. You have everything you need here," a single tear rolls down her cheek.

I pull my wrist loose from her grip and wipe her tear.

"I'm going to be late, see you." I say, shutting the door to her bedroom lightly, before heading to the reapings.

* * *

 _Mayday! Mayday!_

 _The ship is slowly sinking_

 _They think I'm crazy but they don't know the feeling_

 _They're all around me_

* * *

 **Valour Clos, 17.**

 **District one male.**

"How did you sleep last night, dear?" my mom asks, setting down a pile of pancakes in front of me. She joins me at the table, setting her chin in her hand.

"I didn't. I had a lot on my mind.." I lie. I really didn't sleep last night because I was afraid to turn the light off. I couldn't sleep with it on, but every time I turned it off, I could feel them staring.

"Well, today is the big day. I am so proud of you, my boy. It's going to be so tough, but your father and I know you can do it. You'll make us proud." she gets up and returns to the kitchen so that she can distract herself. She has been very upset about it this week, although she would never let anyone know that.

"Thanks, mom." I eat my pancakes as fast as I can and give both of my parents a tight squeeze before heading down to the reapings.

It's an unusually hot day in the district and standing in line waiting to get my finger pricked is miserable. Beads of sweat roll down my face and I use my sleeve to wipe them away. When I reach the front of the line, the woman is cold as she shoves the needle into my finger and stamps it. I make my way to the seventeen year old section on the male side and find a spot to stand. I feel like they are all already staring at me, but every time I look around, there are no eyes on me. It seems like we wait forever before the escort finally waltz onto the stage. She is wearing an old victorian style dress and her light purple hair is piled high onto her head. She has makeup on her face that almost makes it look white. She reminds me of a doll, and it is very unsettling.

"Welcome to the beautiful district one! I am so excited to meet our lovely little tributes. My name is Rosalee," she gestures with her hands a lot as she talks. "Let's begin!" She holds her dress up with one hand as she walks over the females bowl and fishes out a slip of paper.

"Cashmere Downy!" she shouts.

"I volunteer as tribute!" A loud voice comes from the eighteen year olds.

A girl with long blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes, walks confidently out of the crowd. She tosses her hair over her shoulder and saunters up to the stage. She doesn't look scared at all, in fact, she looks excited.

"Well would you look at that!" Rosalee exclaims, looking just as excited as the girl. "Please, tell us your name," she offers out the microphone to the girl.

"My name is Alleluia Damon, but you can call me Lia!" she says with a big smile across her face.

"You certainly are beautiful, do you have anything that you would like to say?" Rosalee asks.

"I am so excited to have the opportunity to bring district one another win!" she says.

"Very well then, thank you Lia. On to the male tribute!" She skips over to the bowl and quickly takes out a slip of paper.

"Henley Smith!" she yells, looking out in the crowd.

I take a deep breath and try to convince myself that no one is watching me. The thought of all these eyes on me makes me cringe, but I know that this is something that I need to do.

"I volunteer as tribute!" I yell, and the little boy from the twelve year old section sighs.

I walk up to the stage looking around at all the faces. When I get there, I am conforted by Rosalee's hand on my back.

"What is your name?" She asks, offering me the microphone.

"My.. My name is Valour. Valous Clos," I stutter nervously.

"Do you have anything that you would like to say?" she asks.

I shake my head and tug on my sleeve.

"Give a round of applause for your lovely district one tributes!" Rosalee screams into the microphone before leading us into the justice building to say our goodbyes.

* * *

 **Hey y'all!**

 **The first reaping chapter is done! :) I am really excited to get this story going. I love all of the tributes so much already and i'm just really excited to bring them all to life.**

 **I will have the blog up by tomorrow afternoon, so that you can have a better idea of what the tributes look like!**

 **I liked both of these tributes a lot, I thought they were both a good example of how even careers aren't perfect all the time. Thanks so much to Mythical Pine Forest and VeneratedArt for submitting. :) I hope you like them.**

 **What did you all think of these two?**

 **Predictions?**

 **XOXO**

 **Jenna**


	5. District Two reapings

_They say I only think in the form of crunching numbers_

 _In hotel rooms, collecting page six lovers._

 _Get me out of my mind, and get you out of those clothes_

 _I'm a liner away from getting you into the mood._

* * *

 **Nolan Durala, 18**

 **District Two male**

"Sarah, baby. Come back to bed, don't leave me hanging," I say flipping over the blue checkered sheets, making a space for her and motioning for the beautiful brunette to come back and join me.

"Who the hell is Sarah?" She asks, turning around abruptly, her forehead is wrinkled, and her hand is on her hip.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean Sarah, I meant… Carissa." I say, giving her the smolder, hoping that it will just make her forget all about the miscommunication. I rub the sheet next to me and wink at her, but she won't move.

"Wrong again, asshole." she slides into her dark denim jeans, throws her sweater over her head and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

I would like to say that this is the first time this has happened to me, but unfortunately, I am all too familiar with this occurrence. It's not my fault that the lovely women of district two find me unbelievably attractive and irresistible. Hell, I find myself irresistible. There are different girls in my bed every other night, so I don't feel bad about something as simple as messing up a name. Sometimes, if the girl is good, she can stay for two nights but after that, I just get bored and move on to her best friend or her sister.

Now that the unnamed female has left the premises, I pull my phone out of my nightstand drawer. I scroll through my seemingly endless list of contacts. I need to find two names; Domica and Jaylil. Domica is my girlfriend of two months, she is the sweetest girl ever and she has a heart of pure gold. I almost feel bad for using her, almost. Her body is smoking hot though and she is really naive, making it easy for me to lie to her face. Jaylil and I have no relationship other than a physical one, friends with benefits if you will. She's down for anything and I love that about her. She has a slight drug problem, but she is bangin' so I try to overlook it.

 _Hey baby, be right over. Missed you tons._

 _How was your weekend away for training?_

 _XOXO, Dom._

I fully plan on breaking things off with her for good eventually, maybe in the justice building. For now, though, I am going to fully take advantage of the situation. I get up and fix my brown hair and spritz some cologne on before wandering into the kitchen to get something to eat. I am in the process of shoving a turkey sandwich in my mouth when the doorbell rings. Domica wraps me into a tight hug, smiling up at me with her big green eyes.

"Every time I come over, I forget how nice your house is," she says stepping back and scanning the room, taking it all in.

You see, my dad works as the head trainer at District Two's training academy and my mom runs one of the main stone quarries. I have always lived quite the charmed life, despite living in District Two. My family has always had way more money that any of us could even begin to imagine what to do with. My mom takes pride in having nice things because they work hard for their money, I'm glad that they do because that means that I literally just get to sit around and do nothing all day long. I couldn't imagine what my life would be like if I actually had struggles.

"I mean, it's alright. Let's just go my bedroom," I shove the last of my sandwich in my mouth before gently grabbing her wrist and leading her into my room. Domica is a nice girl, don't get me wrong. But when I get her alone, she is a freak. That is one of the only reasons that I have kept her around for so long aside from her smoking hot body.

"You've been working out more, you're so toned," she says winking at me.

I started training when I was seven years old, my parents thought it would be good for our image,so that is where I spent most of my childhood. My father, being the head trainer at the academy, always made sure that I got more time than the others in the district. He wanted to make sure that if I was chosen to volunteer, that I would be ready. I soon became the most well-trained trainee at the academy. People looked at me with envy and admiration, but that's how I've been looked at my whole life, so it was nothing new. When you look as good as I do, you have to get used to people's eyes being on you all the time.

Anyway, when I turned eighteen, I was chosen to volunteer. I was so excited and ready for the journey that was about to ensue. I have no doubt in my mind that I will do well in the arena. Other people, weren't too pleased with me. Rumors started floating around the district that the only reason I was chosen to volunteer was because my father basically runs the training academy and not because I am good at what I do. It's not going to change anything, though, I am still going to volunteer and it's still going to be an easy win.

"Thanks, baby," I say flexing and tucking some of her blonde hair behind her ears and kissing her. I lead her to my bed and get what I want, for the second time this morning. When I am done with her, I make up some bullshit excuse about how I have a meeting with the head trainer at the training academy. Her Naivety comes in handy when I need to make up excuses like this because she doesn't realize that my father is the head trainer at the academy. Domica rolls out of bed, covering herself with the blue sheets, gets dressed before blowing me a kiss and exiting the room.

It's not that I want to be this way, but looks like mine, come with great responsibility. I am doing the girls of district two a solid, by even associating with them.

I lay in bed, running my hands through my hair. I stare up and watch the blades of the ceiling fan go round and round and close my eyes. The ding of an incoming text message, causes me to jump.

 _Hey, handsome._

 _Can I come over? ;)_

 _Jaylil._

I consider texting her back and telling her no, this morning has already been exhausting. Who am I kidding, though, I am always down for round three?

 _See you soon babe._

 _Nolan._

I press send and smile at how ridiculously charmed my life is.

* * *

 _I played with your heart_

 _And I could treat you better but I'm not that smart_

 _You still mean everything to me_

 _But I wanna be free_

* * *

 **Gillian Donnan, 18**

 **District Two female**

"Just take one more drink, handsome," the man at the bar is one drink away from being blackout drunk. That is exactly what I want, though.

"Then we can go get a hotel?" The man puts his hairy and burly arm across my thighs and I cringe, but I have to keep it together. The deal is almost done. "One more crown and coke please," the man snaps at the bartender, his breath smelling like a brewery. He downs the drink in one big gulp, and I engage in meaningless conversation with him until he finally lays his head down on the dark wood table.

The brick walls in the bar reflect the lights, giving this whole thing a creepier feel. When I am almost positive that he isn't functioning like a normal human being anymore, I reach in his back pockets and feel around for his wallet. When my fingers collide with the smooth brown leather, a smile spreads across my face. Callen is going to be so pleased. I slide the wallet into the top of my dress and walk up the bartender.

"You might want to call him a cab, it seems like he might have had a bit much to drink. What a shame," I wink at him and strut out of the bar back to Callens black car.

"Did you get it?" He asks, his blue eyes piercing into me. His black hair is slightly gelled up in the front, he just looks really nice.

"Don't I always?" I wink, pushing aside all of my guilt and forcing a smile.

"That's my girl," he says, sending my heart into a fit of flutters. Callen makes it clear to me that our relationship is purely business, but he saved me. He will always have part of my heart for that.

I hand him the wallet and he starts to go through it, taking out anything that looks even remotely valuable. I watch him and try to ignore the pang of guilt that I feel when I think about what is going to go through that poor man's head when he wakes up. I don't mean to hurt anyone and I wish I didn't have to make a life for Callen and myself this way, but nobody ever said life was fair. When I start feeling guilty about screwing people over, Callen reminds that in order to keep the life that I'm living, this is a necessity.

Sometimes, looking at Callen hurts. It reminds me of a past that I struggle with wanting to forget and trying to remember.

Growing up, my parent's never really cared about being parents. They were too immature and young to raise a baby and it started to create problems between them, However, they decided to stay together and try to make it work for a little while longer. The only thing that resulted in was the birth of my little sister, Maggie. Just another life that they weren't equipped to take care of. They fought constantly until one day mom had enough and left. My dad turned to drinking, he was useless when he was drunk.

Not to long after my mother left, the Peace Keepers were notified of the neglect that was occurring. I refused to be taken away by strangers and luckily, I was able to escape them by running. My little sister Maggie wasn't so lucky, I haven't seen her since that dreadful day. My heart ached so bad as I went around searching for Maggie. I never found her, but I vowed to never stop searching until I at least had answers.

Anyway, I was on my own ever since that day, struggling to eat and even to live and then I met Callen. I was so hungry that it was actually painful. I was stealing only the leftovers from a local butcher shop when he found me. Before I could get caught, he took me in and gave me something to eat. I didn't know how to repay him, so I thought I would offer him the one thing that I know every man wants. He just laughed at me and shook his head, before providing me with a warm bed to sleep in.

When I woke up the next morning, he finally told me what he really wanted. Callen was looking for a partner, someone that would never betray him. Of course, I accepted right away. From that day on, I have always had a roof over my head, food in my stomach and he never asked me for anything in return except for me to do my job.

Slowly but surely, Callen started to take a piece of my heart. Some of my best memories are with him, not that I would ever admit that. One, in particular, stands out to me and will forever be my favorite. Callen and I pretended to be a married couple by the names of Dayna and Kalin Yoran, in order to get a pretty good chunk of money for this rich woman who was visiting District Two from the Capitol. That was the night that I realized that Callen would always have a part of my heart.

For my most recent job, I got a spot in the training academy. I love training, I love to know how to defend myself. It could really be put to good use if one of my late night meetings with the men of District Two takes a bad turn. When I started training, though, I started to question everything.

Part of me wants to stay with Callen forever, never leave his side. He has given me a perfect life. I would never want him to think that I was betraying him by leaving. The other part of me wants to take my own path and find my way. I've been on my own before, so I know the ropes. I spend most of my time these days hoping that something will happen that will lead me towards a decision.

Last night, I was laying in my bed thinking about what to do, I closed my eyes and saw my sisters face. Suddenly, I knew what I had to do in order to find her, I needed to volunteer. If I won, I would have my sister back and Callen and I wouldn't have to hurt people anymore. It seemed like the perfect solution. I take a deep breath in the mirror and tighten my dark brown ponytail. The yellow dress that I'm wearing makes my darker skin pop, I think I look pretty darn good. I walk into the living room and find Callen sitting cross-legged in a green armchair.

"Callen, I need to talk to you," I start, getting shy and nervous all of a sudden.

"Sit," he motions for me to sit on the arm of the chair as he sets down the book he was reading.

"So.. I have decided that I'm going to volunteer before you say anything, just hear me out. I would have the opportunity to find my sister and we would be set for the rest of our lives if we won.. We-" I start, but he interrupts me mid-sentence.

"Gillian, I have told you time and time again, I don't wish to change who I am. You are more than welcome to volunteer, but I refuse to change any part of me for you," she says with a straight face before looking back down at his book.

The words that he speaks hurt, but that is our relationship. He saved me, I feel like I have feelings for him but I know our relationship is strictly professional. Of course, he is always there for me when I need a hug or something, but that's it. Our relationship is extremely dysfunctional, but I wouldn't change it for a thing.

Volunteering is still going to be what is best for me as a person. I need to take my own path and learn how to be alone again.

* * *

 _One night and one more time_

 _Thanks for the memories_

 _Even though they weren't so great_

* * *

 **Nolan Durala, 18**

 **District Two male**

"Are you sure you have to do this?" Jaylil asks, twirling her hair as she watches me train. She is sitting on top of one the big blue mats.

"Jay, some people are just naturally good at things, and in my case, this is one of them," I reply, punching the punching bag repeatedly.

I'm just one of those people who is just good at everything, I didn't ask for this to happen, it just did. It creates a lot of problems, really. Everywhere I go, people stare at me. Whether it's because of my insanely attractive face or just the essence of talent that pours from my bones, I'll never know. Moral of the story is that shit gets's old.

"You know, a lot of people train. Just because your dad is the trainer here, doesn't mean you are automatically the best out of twenty- four," she says rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Excuse me?" I shoot daggers at her with my eyes. Who does she think she is saying that I'm not the best to my face. If you are going to talk shit, at least do it behind my back. "This is why you are just a side chick," I smirk at her and continue to punch the red cylinder. She huffs and walks away quickly, but not before getting in one last insult.

"And you are just a pretentious and disappointedly below average sized white boy. I hope you die in there," she says tossing her dirty blonde hair over her shoulder and strutting out.

I roll my eyes and punch harder.

"Ah, nerves must be taking over, you are being extra snarky today," my dad says, patting my back.

"I don't get nervous," I say throwing the gloves to the side and wiping the sweat from my brow.

Training with my dad every day has basically forced us into a pretty close relationship. I love it, though, it's nice to have someone that just gets me. My mom and I have never been very close. Her biggest concern in life is that she is about to turn forty years old and she doesn't want people to know it. We never hang out because honestly, we both know we have better things to do. We don't beat around the bush.

People in this district are ungrateful, my presence is something that needs to be appreciated. It's not every day that you come across someone as endearing as me. Maybe after I make it out of the arena, people will start to see that. I am volunteering whether people in my family like it or not, and the rest of the tributes will be graced with my presence.

I throw on my favorite muscle tank and a pair of red cargo shorts, before slipping into my Adidas sandals and throwing my drawstring bag onto my shoulders, and head to the reapings.

* * *

 _When it comes to love, you're an easy fight_

 _A flower in a gun, a bird in flight_

 _It isn't fair and it isn't right_

 _To lead you on like it's all alright_

* * *

 **Gillian Donnan,18**

 **District Two female**

"Are you absolutely sure that this is something that you need to do?" Callen asks me, standing in the doorway, watching me straighten my long hair.

"I would never forgive myself If I didn't at least take the opportunity to find my sister," I say tightening the back of my silver earring.

"You have everything you need here, though, don't you? I have given you a great life, haven't I?" Callen asks me, leaning against the doorframe.

"Of course, you have, I can never even express how much I appreciate everything you have done for me. You gave me a life when I didn't even want to live, Callen. But I need to know who I am and I need to go down my own path. You understand that, right?" I walk over to him and wrap my arms around his neck. He hugs me back briefly before backing away.

I spin one last time in the mirror, sending my white dress in a circle. I strap my heels on and head to the reapings.

The line is really long. I look around and see a lot of different emotions. Some faces are excited, others are terrified, but the majority just look like they are ready for this whole thing to be over. I get my finger stamped and head to my rightful place in the eighteen-year-old section.

It seems like it takes forever for the escort to come out onto the stage, but when she does, I wish she would go back to where she came from. She has her hair piled high on the top of her head, forming some type of beehive. Her lips are a putrid shade of green and she is wearing a purple and green striped singlet.

"Welcome to the lovely District Two! My name is Quartz Reynard and I will be the escort for our lovely tributes. I know that right now you are probably feeling like you are stuck in between a rock and a hard place, but I promise this will be a great opportunity. She laughs at her own district two puns and continues speaking.

"Well, let us get right to it, shall we?" She skips over to the big glass bowl and sticks her arm all the way in, ruffling the pieces of paper.

"Athena Monroe!" A girl with long brown hair cries out and loses her balance.

"I volunteer as tribute!" I shout. The girl looks at me as I walk up to the stage with gratitude in her eyes. I walk up to the stage and shake this weirdos hand. The whole time, seeing my sister's face in my head.

"What is your name, you gorgeous girl?" she extends the microphone in my direction.

"My name is Gillian Donnan," I say with a fake smile.

"Do you have anything that you would like to say?" She asks.

"I'll find you, Maggie, I promise!" I say, looking directly into the camera. Quartz gets a confused look on her face, before skipping over the males bowl.

"Dex Martin!" she shouts, extending her arms.

"I volunteer as tribute," an attractive boy with dark hair and striking blue eyes emerges from the crown. He smiles over at the female side the whole way up to the stage.

"Young man, what is your name?" she asks.

"Nolan. Nolan Durala," he blows a kiss to the audience before retreating to the other side of the stage.

"Please give a round of applause for your District Two tributes!" She says raising our hands into the air.

I dread the conversation that is about to follow inside the building, but my excitement is growing more and more by the minute.

* * *

 **Hey y'all. :)**

 **Here are the District Two reapings! I really hope you like these two as much as I do. Thanks so much to Annabeth-TheTributeThatLived and LokiThisIsMadness for these amazing additions to my story.**

 **So, the blog is done and I will leave the link below, but please remember that this is my story and that gives me the right to do what I want with the districts. I didn't completely follow the rules. :P (Rebel asf.) I picked the tributes that I thought I would write well and that would make for a good story line, so please be nice. :)**

 **selfportraithg . weebly . com**

 **Let me know what you think! :)**

 **Thoughts on these two?**

 **Predictions?**

 **Do you like the arena?**

 **Love you all.**

 **XOXO**

 **Jenna.**


	6. District Three reapings

_Like how a single word_

 _Can make a heart open_

 _I might only have one match_

 _But I can make an explosion_

* * *

 **Zahra "Justice" Denmore, 17**

 **District Three female**

They say that in everyone's life, there is one defining moment where everything begins to fall into place and make sense. In this moment, you realize who you are and who you want to be, and then you just go from there. For me, I have never had a problem with knowing who I am as a person. It's knowing what to do with it, that I have a problem with.

"Earth to Zahra," my brother Thackery says, playfully pulling me off of the sofa and putting me into a headlock.

"Not again, you idiot!" I say squirming under his tight grip.

"What are you going to do about it, you're just a girl!" he says, mocking me.

Growing up with brothers has given me tough skin. When i was younger, I would scream and cry when I got even the slightest of cuts or skinned my knee. I can remember running to my mom and having her blow gently on the wound before placing a gentle kiss directly on it. There is something about the way mom's can make everything better when you are two years old that seems almost magical. As I got older, my brothers started to play more rough and most of the times, I was stuck in the crossfire. I had no choice but to learn and protect myself.

"Watch it, Thack!" I squeal from under his grip. I grab a hold of his wrist and bend it backwards before kneeing him in the stomach and sending him flying to the maroon colored rug. I push him forwards so that he is lying face down in the center of the living room, jump on him and cross his arms behind his back.

"Ow, stop Justice! Get off of me," his muffled pleas arise from the fluffy carpet.

"What was that? I'm hurting you? My bad, I wasn't aware that I could cause you pain, since I'm just a girl," I say, pushing his head into the ground one last time before having mercy and getting up.

He called me Justice. Nobody has called me that in years, and to be quite frank, I don't miss it. The memories that come along with that nickname are some that I have tried to suppress for my whole entire life. I have done a pretty good job with it for the most part, most of my young childhood years are just a blur now, due to the fact that I have spent most of my life pretending like they never even happened. They say that you don't really remember anything when you are only five years old, but I beg to differ. No matter how hard I tried to forget, some memories are so burned into my brain that they consume my thoughts on a daily basis.

My mother was the most kind hearted and loving person that I have ever known. She was soft-spoken and gentle and I remember looking up at her from my little pink child sized bed and thinking she was the most beautiful person ever. There was almost something about her that seemed magical. I fully believed that my mother was some sort of fairytale queen.

She would take me into her arms and we would go on make believe adventures through the house. Her being the strong and mighty queen, and me being the meek and vulnerable princess. Sometimes, my dad, or the evil prince would get a hold of me and run with me down the dark and twisty forest, or otherwise known as the dark hallway. My mom would always come find me and rescue me, I can't think of one time where she wasn't my hero in our little make believe life.

Just like in most fairy tales, the little kingdom that my family had created for me, came tumbling down. The only difference was, there was no villain or bad guy to be slain with a sword or fought with. This villain lived inside of my mother. Day by day, she started getting more and more sick. The light on her face soon turned to dark purple bags under her eyes, and the smile that she once wore all the time slowly started to fade. At five years old, a princess needs her queen and I sure as hell wasn't ready to live without mine.

I remember the last day that that I had with my mom like it happened this morning. My dad came into my room and told me that it was time to say goodbye. I clung onto the pink poles of my bed and hid my head under a pillow. I guess I thought that if I didn't acknowledge what was going on, that it would just go away. My dad finally pulled me out of my bed and lead me into my mother's room where she was on bed rest. The slow hum of the machines and that one loud beep that would occur every few minutes are sounds that I wish I could forget, but are unfortunately etched into my memory forever.

"Zahra, come here," my mother whispered, trying to sit up straight in her bed.

"What is it momma?" I remember asking her.

"Like in our story time, there are always going to be bad people in the world. People that are going to want to hurt you and take you away. You have to promise me that you will fight like the princess that I know you can be," she said with tears starting to slowly roll down her cheeks.

"I promise, momma," I said, looking at anything but her.

"The world is scary and corrupted, they need a change They need justice. That is where you are going to come into play. You are my little Justice," she said with a faint smile.

That was the last memory that I had with my mother. After she died, my dad and my older brother Thackery called me Justice for awhile, but eventually it wore off. My dad and Thackery have never been anything but supportive of me. My other brother, Zorro, isn't really around much. I know that they say everyone copes with things differently, but I have no respect for people who turn their backs on people, especially in times of need. I guess you could say that because of this, I have developed some sort of trust issues.

You see, I would do anything for someone that I cared about. My dad says that it will be my fault one day. I never understood how you could just turn your back on someone that you once cared about so easily. I am very wary around people who I do not know well because of this.

I know for a fact that my dad and Thackery will always have my back. I am extremely lucky when it comes to family. If growing up in a house of boys has taught me one thing, it is that I can hold my own. I have been put in countless headlocks and been punched, pushed and wrestled, way too many times to count. No matter how many times that they tackled me down though, I pushed back harder and usually came out on top.

I take that with me wherever I go in life. Like my mom said when I was a little girl, life is a scary place. There are always going to be people who want to drag me down and tear me apart. However, I am the justice of my own life. I refuse to be caged in.

* * *

 _But you gotta make your own kind of music_

 _Sing your own special song_

 _Make your own kind of music_

 _Even if nobody else sings along_

* * *

 **Sylvester Morse, 15**

 **District Three male**

There is something so inviting about the quiet. It draws you in deeper and deeper and before you know it, you are enveloped in a tunnel of your own thoughts. To some people, that sounds boring or even terrifying. However, it is my favorite place to be. People are often scared of being alone, for the fear that they might actually have to be in tune with their own thoughts and feelings, but for me it is the only place that I feel like I truly belong.

"Hey Sylvester," A woman on the corner says smiling as I'm walking home from the store.

"Uh… h- hi…" I stammer, regretting speaking almost instantly.

"Did you have a nice day?" She asks, still smiling.

"Yes mam," Is all I manage to get out, before I look at her and smile.

"Always so polite, she says looking pleased.

I don't like people, and I don't mean that in a bad way. I just mean that if given the choice to spend the night in a room full of people or by myself, I would choose to be alone in a heartbeat. People who don't really know me well, often overlook my awkwardness because I am very polite. My logic is that if I am polite enough, people will think I am a normal and nice kid, but they will also leave me alone.

The walk home from getting food is filled with dodging eye contact to avoid conversations with people and fast paced steps to get me into the privacy of my bedroom as soon as possible. When I get there, I toss my backpack onto the dark brown carpet in my bedroom and jump onto my bed. With arms crossed behind my head and my shoes kicked off, I can finally start to relax. I manage to drift off for what seems like a long time, but in reality is just a half an hour. The beeps coming from my alarm clock are dream shattering but I promised my Aunt Lydia that I would work in her shop today. Anything to get me out of the house.

Don't get me wrong, I am very lucky to have the family that I do, but they can all be a bit suffocating sometimes. Growing up, my family was always together. My parents constantly wanted us to spend time together and go do all of these things, but that just isn't my personality. From the time that I was a small boy, I have preferred spending time alone. I guess you could say that I am a bit of a recluse. Anyway, my Aunt Lydia offered me an opportunity to come help her at her tailor shop at a young age. She was grateful for the help and I was grateful for the opportunity to get away, if only for a few hours at a time.

For the second time today, my walk to help my aunt is spent looking down. When I arrive, Aunt Lydia is in the back making a dress out of a pattern that I designed. I smile, watching her put the sheer pieces of paper up against the dark red fabric.

"Hey Sylvester!" She says, looking up briefly and smiling at me. "How have you been?" she asks, removing a yellow pin from in between her teeth.

"Oh, just the same," I tell her, walking over to the pattern that I left off on yesterday.

"Are the kids at school still giving you a hard time?" she asks, her brow furrowed in concern.

"Of course they are, I don't think they would know what to do with themselves if they weren't picking on me," I tell her.

"Well, that's a shame. Some people will just never recognize talent, my boy." she says, rising from her chair and heading to a sewing machine.

When I started working here when I was younger, I didn't expect to catch on as quickly as I did. Not only did I find that sewing and making patterns was easier than I thought, I found that it was something that I really enjoyed. I was good at it and day by day, design slowly started becoming my passion. Most of the designs that my aunt uses now, are the ones that I have created. Designing and sewing became my own little escape and I found myself looking forward to the days that I got to come work in the shop.

However, when word got out at school, the other kids had a hay day. Sewing isn't considered the most masculine activity so you can imagine the insults that were flung my way. I guess you could say that I am sensitive, I always have been. As much as I tried not to let the insults get to me, the blows were devastating. Going to a place where people live to hurt you every single day was a daunting task and for a little while I continued to try, but eventually I stopped caring. My teachers tried to help me but it didn't work. My grades slipped drastically and pretty soon I just cut off interaction with everyone.

A few weeks ago, I dropped out of school and came to work here with my aunt full time. I can't say that my parents were ecstatic about it, but they knew about the bullying and felt bad sending me back. So here we are.

"I guess so, I wouldn't call it talent though," I say, trying to be humble.

"You are a strange boy, if you don't see that you have talent, you must be blind," she says walking up behind me and ruffling my hair.

"Whatever, Aunt Lydia," I chuckle.

The boy who usually comes in to deliver the clothes to the people who asked for them walks in and our eyes meet for a brief moment. I look down.

Lately, I have been confused. Well, not confused exactly, but I have noticed that I have been finding both girls and boys attractive. I have always known that something was different, but lately it has been making more sense in my head. I would never ever tell anyone though. I don't need the other teenagers in District Three to have one more reason to pick on me. It's going to be something that I need to figure out on my own and when I am ready, I will tell my closest confidant, Aunt Lydia. The boy walks out of the shop, hands full with dress bags and I feel like I can finally breathe again.

When I am closing up the shop, I take a look around at everything that makes me so happy. I might not like people, and I might be a shy and awkward person. People might not like me and they might make that very well known, but I know who I am and I wouldn't change it.

I flip the light switch down and head home.

* * *

 _My power's turned on_

 _Starting right now I'll be strong_

 _I'll play my fight song_

 _And I don't really care if nobody else believes_

 _'Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me_

* * *

 **Zahra "Justice" Denmore,17**

 **District Three Female**

"Can you please pass the potatoes?" I ask extending my arm out.

"Sure, Princess," my dad smiles and hands me the blue glass bowl full of fluffy goodness. I scoop a heaping pile onto my plate before passing the bowl to Thackery. I like that my dad still calls my princess, it reminds me of when things were better and easier.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?" Thackery asks me, avoiding eye contact and moving around the veggies on his plate.

"Not really, but there is nothing we can do about it, right?" I smile, trying to ease the tension.

"I guess so, but I wish there was. The Hunger Games isn't some fairy tale, Zahra." Thackery says, looking annoyed.

"Trust me, I know that. I am not five anymore," I shoot back.

"Now, Kids. Stop that. Zahra is a strong girl, just like her mom was. Nothing is going to happen to her, however, if it does, I have no doubt in my mind that she will come home to us in one piece," My dad says pushing his plate away and rising from the dinner table.

I stick my tongue out at my brother playfully before getting up to my help my dad clear the dishes.

My other brother hasn't been around in days, and to be quite frank, it royally pisses me off. While it does take quite a lot to make me mad, when you achieve that, my fuse is pretty short. I open the door to his room, hoping to find him in there, but he isn't. I feel myself getting angry and slam his door shut, making the frames of my mother on the wall shake.

You can't just turn your back on people, that isn't how life works. I don't want to not trust people, but with everything that has happened in my life, It just comes naturally. Both of us have a chance at getting reaped today, I just wanted the chance to make sure he was feeling okay about all of this, but if he is never around, I won't feel bad about it. I have to worry about myself.

I put on a nice white blouse and a floral print skirt and put my blonde hair into a bun on the top of my head. I twirl causing my skirt to spin, before exiting the room.

I kiss the framed picture of my momma on the wall and spend some time wrapped up in a big bear hug from my dad before heading to the reapings. I can't help but picture everything that could happen, my castle could be minutes away from crumbling.

* * *

 _Nobody can tell you_

 _There's only one song worth singing_

 _They may try and sell ya_

 _Cause it hangs them up_

 _To see someone like you_

* * *

 **Sylvester Morse, 15**

 **District Three male**

"You look great, Syl," my sister says from across the room. I smile at her quickly and then straighten my bow tie. "You have nothing to worry about," she says in a really soft voice.

"Don't use your teacher voice with me please," I grumble.

My sister Felicia is following my in my mom's footsteps and on her way to be a school teacher, which is why I have always thought my mother favored her. She says it isn't true, but I can tell. My mom is a very nice and gentle woman, but I can't help but feel like the only time that she has ever shown concern for me was when I dropped out of school. She kind of freaked.

"Are you going to stay for lunch, Sylvester?" My mom shouts from the kitchen. I hear pots and pans banging and my brother laughing.

"Uh, no, sorry mom! I have to go meet up with Aunt Lydia, she has something for me!" I shout back. I fix my clothes in the mirror one final time before rushing to meet my aunt.

She is sitting on a bench in the park when I finally meet up with her.

"There you are, I know you have to get going pretty quickly, but I just wanted to give you something," she smiles and reaches in her purse.

"You don't have to do this, I'll see you at the shop tomorrow," I assure her.

" Just to be sure," She winks. She pulls out a golden thimble from her bag and hands it to me. "For you," she smiles.

"This is your favorite thimble, I can't take this," I say starting to feel myself getting awkward. Sentiment makes me uncomfortable. She wraps me up in a big hug and then sends me on my way.

At the reapings, it is hard to move. There are so many young people in this area that I can feel my throat start closing. I don't like crowds and this is making me extremely nervous. Luckily, the escort doesn't waste any time.

"Well hello there, My name is Dandy. Let's get started," she says walking over the bowl full of female names.

"Zahra Denmore!" A blonde girl looks shocked. She straightens her face immediately and confidently walks up to the stage. She doesn't look scared at all but maybe she is just really good at hiding it.

"Zahra, do you have anything to say?" Dandy asks her.

"Nope, thanks though," she smiles and steps back, scanning the audience for a face.

"And with that, your male tribute for the games is…"

"Sylvester Morse!" She says with wide eyes.

I can't move, my body starts shaking like a leaf. I don't want to go. Somehow though, my legs start moving. I take shaky steps all the way to the stage, trying my hardest to keep the tears that are about to spill out, in. I remember that I have to shake Zahra's hand and focusing on that helps me get through the seemingly endless short walk to the stage.

"Do you have anything to say?" she shoves the microphone in my face.

I shake my head and join my district partner.

The roar of the audience clapping is the last thing I hear before the big doors close.

* * *

 **Hey loves! :)**

 **How are y'all?**

 **So here are the District Three reapings. I hope you enjoyed them as much as I did. Thank you to Elim9 and x-Queen-Of-Applesx for the submissions. They are great.**

 **SIDE NOTE: Caleb is leaving the country in the morning, if you are reading this send him a nice message wishing him safe travels and bon voyage :P I expect my besties inbox to be flooded with well wishes. Put potato at the end of your PM so he knows where you came from. IVolunteerAsAuthor. Ready set go!**

 **What did y'all think?**

 **Predictions?**

 **Also, expect more regular updates from here on out.**

 **Love youuu.**

 **XOXO**

 **Jenna**


	7. District Four reapings

_All that I'm after is a life full of laughter_

 _As long as I'm laughing with you_

 _I'm thinkin' that all that still matters, is love ever after_

 _After the life, we've been through_

* * *

 **Felicity Blue, 18**

 **District Four female**

It's crazy to me that there is basically a whole world that we know nothing about under the surface of the water. It's dark, too dark to really take everything in and experience everything that the ocean has to offer, but that doesn't mean I won't try. Big adventures are kinda my thing.

"Lissy, come on. We can go out farther, we aren't even past the buoy yet," my best friend Rowan urges as he swims forward at a steady pace.

"Well, we aren't supposed to go past the buoy's, it's against the rules," our other friend Sara states.

"Sara, when have I ever followed the rules?" I ask her, diving under the water and swimming fast to catch up to Rowan.

Rules have never been my thing. If you always follow the rules, your life experiences wouldn't be as memorable. I don't have an authority problem, but my mom has had to get me out of a few fishy situations more than once. The way I see it, the world just has so much to offer. If you just stay in your little bubble all the time, you are certainly going to miss out. My mom doesn't seem to think that is an acceptable excuse, though. She is the secretary for the mayor here in District Four and she takes her job very seriously. I guess it works in my favor though because she has tricks up her sleeve that usually keep me out of trouble.

"We should probably swim back now, it's getting pretty late," Rowan says, sliding his blonde hair to the side of his face.

"Are you kidding? We'll be fine," I tell him, tugging on his hand and leading him farther out into the unknown.

"I'm not going any farther!" Sara screams over the loud roar of the waves. I shrug, and finally, stop swimming.

"Don't look so disappointed, Lissy." Rowan teases. He stops swimming and I can see are his eyes as he bobs up and down in the water. He is giving me a look.

"Sorry, I can't help it," I say, getting butterflies. "She is just really perfect. She is nice and sweet and when I spend time with her, she just makes me feel like we are alone, even if we are in a crowd full of people," I say. I look over my shoulder and watch her sandy brown hair head back to shore.

"Don't be so obvious about it this time, I don't want to see you get hurt again. Please just take it slow this time," Rowan says, treading water.

"I will, I promise. You won't have to pick up my broken pieces this time," I say smiling.

I guess you could say that I am a hopeless romantic. I just love love. There is nothing else in the world like it. I think it's beautiful how one thing can make you feel on top of the world and at your lowest. It's just really powerful. I have a habit of falling too hard, too fast. I have had my fair share of heartbreak in my eighteen years. No matter how hard I try or how much I give, no one has stayed. Rowan thinks that I just need to tone it down a bit, and just ease into things. He is probably right, I just have a really hard time pumping the brakes once I get going. This time, will be different.

"The last girl you had a thing for made your life a living hell, I don't want to see that happen again. Girls are crazy," he says.

"Tell me about it, that's why I lean more towards boys. There is something about her, though," I say smiling.

I have never had a problem at school, most people liked me for the most part. When you aren't rude and pretentious like a lot of the other girls at school, people tend to flock to you. The fact that I had a pretty supportive group of friends in school made coming out as bisexual when I was sixteen, that much easier. Of course, there were some people that picked on me, but that was to be expected. You can't please everyone and I am not going to waste this short time that we each get on earth pretending to be something that I'm not. There are so many better and exciting things that I can be doing than worrying about my sexuality and what other people think about me.

"You're so gross, the way you look at her makes me want to vomit," Rowan says, chuckling. "Well, you aren't going to get anywhere with her, swimming in the middle of the ocean," he says.

"I guess you're right, I should probably talk to her. Let's head back," I say swimming towards the shore.

We are swimming side by side, almost approaching the buoy when something brushes my foot. I let out a loud scream as it swims by again, brushing against my other leg.

"Something has me, this is it!" I scream, flailing my arms.

"Be still, don't panic!" Rowan grabs onto my arm and swims as fast as he can towards the shore.

When we get far enough away, we both pause and look back. Two dolphins jump out of the water and dive back in just as quick.

"Dude, you almost got mauled by a deadly, magical dolphin. You should have seen the look on your face," Rowan hold his stomach and falls down into the sand, laughing so hard that he can barely breathe.

"Shut up, you were just as scared!" I exclaim, laying back on the sand to join him. It get's quiet for a moment. He turns and looks at me.

"You know Lissy, there are plenty of adventures here. Plenty of things for us to do and more ways than you can think of for us to get in trouble, right here in District Four. You don't have to do this," he says looking away disapprovingly.

"I know, Row. But it's something that I feel like I need to do, and I don't really want to talk about it anymore." I say, rolling off of my towel and getting up. "I'm gonna go chat with Sara, catch you later?" I ask.

Rowan nods and I walk up the squishy soft sand, taking the ocean breeze in the whole way there.

* * *

 _What doesn't kill you makes you stronger_

 _Stand a little taller_

* * *

 **Roman Bentley, 17**

 **District Four male**

To me, there is nothing better than the sound of the seagulls flying overhead. The sound of their calls are almost relaxing and melodious to me. They just fly overhead enjoying the breeze until they see something that they want to eat, then they dive down and get it. That sounds like a life that I would be okay with living.

"Come on now, boy. You can tie a better knot than that!" my dad shouts from across the pier. I look down on the net that I am making and then toss it aside.

"I'd rather… not," I chuckle at my own pun. "Get it, knots?" I ask my dad, pointing down at the black string and half put together net.

"Oh Roman, just finish the dang net," he says suppressing a laugh and playfully smacking the back of my head. "Carlos and Sophia are up at the house waiting for you. The sooner you finish the net, the sooner you can go be young and dumb with your friends," he says giving me a knowing look.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm going as fast as I can pops," I say smirking at him. My dad walks away, back to his red fold out chair on the edge of the pier and begins fishing again. This is his favorite place to be and I can't say that I blame him.

Being near the water makes me happy, it's the only life that I have ever really known. Making nets and learning how to use the various different tools and weapons needed to keep a fishing business afloat has been my entire life.

I don't remember much from my childhood. That might be because I have purposely blocked the first two years of my existence out. Spending the first two years of life in an orphanage isn't exactly what I would call happy memories. I don't remember much, but I do remember the lack of touch and love that a young child needed. I remember it being cold in there and my mom says that is probably why I like spending so much time outside now.

The day after I turned two, my parents adopted me. I was still too young to have vivid memories of what it felt like to finally have a home, but what I do remember is that there was never a lack of love or affection ever again. Ever since then, my parents and I have been extremely close. There isn't a day that goes by where I fail to let them know how much I appreciate everything that they did for me. They have taught me everything that I need to know to be successful living in District Four and they did it with love.

"Are you almost done, the sun is about to go down. You're running out of daylight!" My dad calls from over his shoulder.

"Perfect timing! Carlos, Sophia and I are going to a bonfire down on the beach," I tell him as I tighten the last knot on my net and head up to the dock to put it with the rest of our supplies.

"Be careful, Roman, I mean it. Stay out of trouble," Pop says crossing his arms. His fishing pole wriggles and he stands up quickly.

"Bye, Pop!" I yell, jogging the few yards from the water that it takes to get to our house. When I get there, Sophia and Carlos are gone and my mom is sitting at the kitchen table. She has her arms crossed over her chest and the house phone is in the middle of the table.

"Where are my friends?" I ask her, sitting across from her.

"They went on ahead to the bonfire, you can meet them in a little bit. I need to talk to you. Your teacher called today," she says rolling her eyes.

"Crap.. what did she have to say this time?" I ask her.

I do very well in school, don't get me wrong. I am a very smart kid and I pride myself in that. However, most of my teachers would describe me as being loud and rowdy. I have never had a problem making friends, so moving me around doesn't help much. They call it being disruptive, but I call it making the learning environment more fun. All my life, my mom has been getting calls from my teachers.

"Just that you were very loud yesterday and you told one of your fellow classmates to stop being a prick," she said shaking her head.

"Mom, we were messing with cactuses. Prick. It's funny," I tell her, laughing at my own joke, again.

She tries to hide her smile, but she fails and bursts out with laughter. She rises from the table and ruffles my hair.

"Go catch up with your friends, Cora." she says.

I stare at her waiting for her to realize her mistake. When she finally realizes what she just called me, she stops dead in her tracks.

"I'm so sorry. I was just looking at pictures of her with Sophia, she is still heavy on my mind today," she says, a sullen look spreading across her face.

"Don't apologize, momma," I tell her giving her a hug.

Cora was my little sister. She was born when I was only eight years old. She was the apple of my family's eye, including mine. It was nice to know that I wasn't alone anymore. Cora was smart and so adorable, I remember being so obsessed with her and being so excited to teach her how to swim.

When she was two, she got sick. Since her body was so little, it didn't take long for the illness to win. She passed away three months after they first found out she was ill. My parents handled it just as any other parent who lost a child would for the first few years. They realized that I still needed them though and turned their anger and pain into more love and appreciation for me. We started spending more and more time together. I will always wonder what if, but I refuse to live in the past.

"Run along, Roman," she says, kissing my forehead.

I change into my swim trunks, and head out the door to go meet my friends at the bonfire.

* * *

 _Thinkin' 'bout the better times must've been outta my mind  
_

 _So I'm runnin' back to tell you_

 _All that I'm after is a life full of laughter_

* * *

 **Felicity Blue, 18**

 **District Four female**

"You know that your mother would not be happy about you being out this late at night, Lissy. It's dangerous," Saundra says, brows furrowed.

Sandra is one of the many helpers that we having living with us. I'm closest to her, though. She is basically my second mom. It's not that my mom doesn't love me because she does, it's just that her job requires her to be gone for long periods of time and I never see her. It's nice to have another woman around that I can talk to about things.

"I'll be back before you know it. The reapings are tomorrow and I really need to talk to Rowan," I tell her, tightening my red ponytail.

Saundra nods, giving me the okay to leave so I head out into the night. I love wandering around at night. It's peaceful and all the hustle and bustle has finally died down by now. I have always had somewhat of a short attention span, so the dead of night is when I focus best. I love walking along the water and just looking up at the stars. This has been a nightly routine for me since I can remember.

Rowan and I are supposed to meet at the boardwalk to talk about a few things, but he is always late. If you think I am a troublemaker, you should spend a day with him. He is always getting into something.

I walk to the boardwalk and sit down on a bench that sits directly in front of the now still Ferris wheel. It looks different with all of the lights turned off.

"Boo," Rowan covers my eyes with his hands before walking around to join me on the bench.

"What took you so long? You had me thinking that the Peace Keepers got to you," I tell him.

"Excuse me, Lissy. It's the middle of the night and most people are sleeping at this hour, including me!" He exclaims.

"The reapings are tomorrow," I tell him, looking out at the waves colliding with the shore.

"You mean today, in five hours to be exact," he states, avoiding eye contact. "Please tell me that you have changed your mind," he says, fear in his voice.

"I'm sorry, but I just feel like this is something that I really want to do, I think that I have what it takes. You have to believe in me on this one, Row," I tell him. "Please don't be mad."

"I am not mad at you, I'm just concerned and a little upset. Our life is so great here, why change it?" he asks.

"I have the opportunity to make my life better though, Rowan. For all of us, and it would be a crazy adventure in the process," I say smiling.

"Lissy, you can't even kill a fish, you would be live bait in there," he says, playfully punching my shoulder.

"It would definitely be tough, but I can overlook the fact that I will be killing people," I say.

"Whatever you say, Lissy. Have you heard from Sara?" He asks, changing the subject.

"Not a thing, but I'm not upset. I didn't like her that much anyways," I lie.

"Yeah, Whatever. You would love a potato if it loved you back," he jokes.

Everyone thinks that one day, Rowan and I will wed. It's not going to happen, though, we just don't see each other that way. He is my best friend in the entire world and I love him more than anyone, but just not in that way.

"Who is there?!" A voice shouts from the darkness. All of a sudden, Rowan and I are blinded by a bright light.

"Shit, Run! I will see you later at the reapings. I love you, Lissy," he says pulling me in for a quick hug before we both spring our separate ways.

I run through the night, back to the safety of my home, thinking about what the morning will bring the whole way.

* * *

 _What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, stronger_

 _Just me, myself and I_

* * *

 **Roman Bentley, 16**

 **District Four male**

"You look great, Roman. Stop worrying." Sophia says. She is sitting on the floor in front a floor length mirror in my parent's room, curling her long black hair.

"I don't care how I look, it's just the whole idea of it. It scares me," I say, picking at my nails.

"Well, odds are, neither of us will get picked. Have you ever taken out tesserae?" She asks me.

"No, Why would I?" I ask. "I live a very comfortable life here, and my family provides more than enough food. It's just the whole picture that I have in my head of what it would be like to actually be in the arena. I don't like it," I tell her.

She finishes curling her hair and cleans up the mess sprawled out in front of her before sitting down next to me on the couch at the end of the bed.

"We're gonna be just fine, let's go join Carlos and your parents and eat breakfast. It's going to be a long day," she says.

My mom has pancakes, waffles, and fresh fruit on the table. Carlos and my dad are already digging in when we sit down.

"What took you so long?" Carlos asks, winking in my direction.

I kick him under the table. Sophia is my best friend, nothing more. Carlos won't let it go, though. He thinks that something is going on and finds any excuse that he can to make us uncomfortable.

"Sorry, I was up there rehearsing my speech to finally win over you mom," I tell him.

"Ooh, good one. You're usually good at comebacks, that was weak. I'm disappointed," he says, shoving a forkful of pancake into his mouth.

"Enough you too, we have to get going. I'm grilling some fish for lunch when we get back," my mom says.

I finish my food and straighten my blue tie, and head out the door with my friends.

I've never seen so many scared and nervous faces. The crowd is moving fast, getting everyone to there rightful place. I stand with the other sixteen-year-old boys, Carlos to my left and we both don't really know what to say, so it's just quiet. The Escort bounces across the stage on what seem to be some sort of moon shoes. He is wearing a neon blue suit, paired with a starfish tie. Clever. His hair is the same ugly yellow color as the starfish on his tie.

"Welcome to the District Four reapings! My name is St. Bart and I am so excited to see who will be representing us this year in the games!" He yells into the microphone.

"Let's get right to it!" He bounces over to the girls bowl and fishes out a slip of paper.

"Lana Rawlins!" He shouts.

"I volunteer as tribute!" A voice comes from the eighteen-year-old girls. A girl with reddish hair and bright green eyes stands there, almost as if she is regretting what she just did. She seems to get it together fairly quickly and walks up to the stage with a smile on her face.

"Oh, would you look at that, a volunteer!" The man says. " Do you have anything that you would like to say?" He asks her.

"I am really excited to bring my district respect and for the adventure that I am about to embark on," she smiles into the camera.

"How charming, What is your name?" He asks.

"Felicity Blue, but you can call me Lissy," she takes a step back as if to say that she wouldn't like to speak anymore.

"Onto the male tribute!" He says, bouncing across the stage once more.

"Roman Bentley!" He says.

My knees get weak and Carlos steadies me. I feel like I am going to cry, but I refuse to let all these people see me as weak so I keep it together. I can't believe it. Out of all the males in the district, my name is chosen. I walk up to the stage and join my district partner but I don't wish to speak. I don't think I could if I tried. The escort it talking, but it sounds like I am underwater, I don't want to go. They lead us into a building and close the doors.

Now it's up to me.

* * *

 **Hey faves. :P**

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I honestly had so much fun writing this one. There were so many water and ocean puns and it was just so fun. I also really enjoy these tributes. Thank you to FabulousAbby and Z-fun2001 for submitting.**

 **Hopefully the district five reapings will be up tomorrow night, but don't hold me to that. Or do. I won't tell you how to live your life.**

 **If you haven't checked it out yet, my best friend Caleb and I are writing a Collab on his page called Thunder and Lightning. You should read it. :) I'm posting once a week over there until he gets back from Australia. It hasn't even been a full week yet, and I just miss my bestie so much xD**

 **Anyway, let me know what you think.**

 **Favorite so far?**

 **What is your favorite candy? :) (Just for fun.)**

 **XOXO**

 **Jenna.**


	8. District Five Reapings

_I wanna tear down boundaries_

 _I wanna greet my enemies_

 _I wanna see what I haven't seen_

 _Cause I know there's more_

* * *

 **Taffy England, 12**

 **District Five female**

"Taffy darling, it's fine. Just leave it be," my mother says as I straighten the salmon colored candles on one of the cakes that she is making. She comes up behind me and places her hand on my shoulders.

I squint my eyes real hard and place where exactly the candles would look best in my head. I guess you could say I am a bit of a perfectionist. If things aren't completely in order and organized, it really grinds my gears. Momma doesn't think that symmetry is the most important thing when baking cakes, she says it's all about they way it tastes. Her cakes are beautiful but sometimes they aren't exactly even.

My mom is a cake baker and designer while my father is the vice mayor. Both of them have taught me everything that they know about what they do. I personally prefer the baking, though. There is something about the way you can turn plain and simple ingredients such as flour and sugar into a masterpiece. Through the white dust that flies around the kitchen comes something so beautiful and personal. I've been baking and decorating my own cakes since I was only six years old. It's my favorite hobby.

"Just put this one here and it's perfect," I smile at my mom, moving the candle. I dust my hands off on my salmon colored apron and head towards the door. "I have to go help dad now. I'll see you at home, momma!" I shout over the loud buzz of the electric mixer. She waves me off and I walk out into the loud industrial streets of district five.

When I was ten, my dad had me help him get messages to different important people throughout the district. Somehow, it turned into a part-time job to help bring extra income to my family. I spend most of my days riding my bike around the district delivering messages to people and then bringing back important information to my dad. He always told me that a job worth doing is worth doing right, so that is what I live by. If I try something and fail, I get right back up and try again. I don't stay down for long.

Riding my bike through the district gives me time to think. I value this time by myself. I spend most of the day out here, delivering messages back and forth. This part- time job definitely helps me with being more social. If it were up to me, I would spend more time alone than with the other citizens of District five. Momma thinks it's strange that I don't have much interest in being with the other kids. I call it maturity.

The sun was hot today, and I can't wait to go up to my bedroom and crack open a good book. I love the way that you can just completely lose yourself in a story. The characters become your friends and the storyline becomes your life. The whole back wall of my bedroom is lined with bookcases and each shelf is lined with different adventures in alphabetical order of course, for me to lose myself in every time that I crack open a new crisp page. I read every night until my eyes get heavy, and then I drift off into a new adventure.

"Are you sleeping Taf?" My door creaks open, the hinges obviously needing to be oiled. My dad walks in and sits on the edge of my bed.

"I was, but I've been awake for a few minutes. Bad dream," I tell him, sitting up straight and adjusting my red braid that is perched on the side of my head.

"You left the knives out in the kitchen last night. You've got to be more careful. We can't have people finding out that you are training. That would get both of us in a world of trouble," He says, adjusting my purple comforter.

"Sorry, dad. I'll be more careful. Since they are already out, though, and I'm awake, maybe we could go throw for a little bit," I half tell him and half ask him.

"Sure, but make it quick and effective," he says motioning me towards the door.

When I was ten, I watched the Hunger Games on tv for the first time. I was fascinated by the swiftness of the knife throwing. Later that night, I snuck down into the kitchen and found my mom's best knife set. Holding the wooden handle in my fingers made me feel cool and the shiny silver metal protruding from the end of the handle scared me but excited me.

I drew a little target on the wall and stood back behind the center island. I threw the knives one by one and at first, they fell to the floor. But with each night that I practiced, they began to stick into the wall and then eventually they hit the bullseye.

One night, my dad walked into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. He is often up late nights, doing important work for the district. He was furious at first. I swore when he saw me holding the knife, smoke came out of his ears. He sent me to my room and the next morning the holes in the wall were filled in and the knives were not in their normal place.

He didn't talk to me for a few days but one night, he walked into my room and invited me down to the kitchen. He told me that he thought about it for awhile and that since I was only ten years old at the time, and I had eight more years with the opportunity to be reaped, that training wasn't a bad idea.

Each night, he worked with me more and more until each knife that I threw hit the target straight on. I still do it occasionally, but now that I'm twelve, I have other responsibilities that are more important to me. I know that I'm still young and that I have my whole life ahead of me, but I like my little-organized bubble.

My life isn't the average life that a twelve-year-old lives, but then again, I am not the average twelve-year-old.

* * *

 _You are more than the choices that you've made,_

 _You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,_

 _You are more than the problems you create,_

 _You've been remade._

* * *

 **Jaxs Williamson, 18**

 **District Five male**

I live in a world where I am free to do anything that I want and honestly, I have access to anything that I could ever want. On one condition, though, I keep all my real feelings and emotions bottled up inside of me.

Money is the most important thing in life, right? Wrong. Well, not if you are my parents. Money makes the world go round and as long as I act appropriately, I am entitled to everything that they have.

My dad is just above the mayor in District Five so the Williamson name is well known in the district. The name comes with a lot of responsibility. We have an image to upkeep and a name to uphold. Nothing bad has ever really happened that was bad enough to taint our family name. But that is because there is a strict set of household rules in place at all times. This way, we act appropriately and my parents can rest easy at night knowing that their reputations are being upheld.

The first rule, stay quiet and never speak out against anything, even if you disagree. Talk about it in private later with people that you know won't spill the secrets. However, they prefer to not talk about any issues at all. This rule has always been hard for me, but as I've grown up, I've learned that keeping emotions all bottled up inside wasn't as hard as people made it out to be.

The second rule, always be well mannered and well behaved. This means, that no matter what the situation, you have to be on your best behavior. If you showed in the slightest that you were upset or scared of something, it meant that you weren't using your manners in a respectful way. It was almost as if my parents didn't want me to have fears at all.

From the time I was a little boy, these rules were enforced and if I didn't follow them exactly, the punishments would be severe. I was never brave enough to actually break the rules to find out what one of the punishments would be, after one night when I didn't behave and my father took my supper away for the rest of the week. If that was one of the easier punishments, I sure as hell wasn't going to find out what the severe ones were like.

Watching all of this happen, instilled a deep fear in me from the time that I had just learned to walk. I don't have any interest in being the perfect child, but I have been conditioned into being so. Perfect appearance, perfect grades and the perfect behavior. From someone who is on the outside looking in, it seems that I have a perfect life. I have all these material things that people in district five would only dream about having and I didn't even have to work for it. But it came with a steep price to pay.

Because of the fact that all I've known how to do my entire life is suppress my emotions, when I actually do try and feel something, I can't. Life isn't perfect and things happen. Terrible, sad things and no matter how hard I try, I feel nothing. I've even put myself through a series of home experiments. I've watched the saddest movie that you could possibly imagine, I've read sad books and thought about things that could probably get me locked up in insane asylums, but nothing happens. No tears and ever worse, no feelings.

The counselor at my school says it's because I don't know how to feel and even that I am scared of it. She might be right, but I wouldn't know. This is all that I've ever known. The rules and perfect behavior have become my life, but I am not going to let it stay that way. In order to get out of the house more and more specifically away from the crazy rules, I got a job at one of the local power plants in the district. I am only supposed to be a maintenance worker, but thanks to one of the rogue security guards who hates the Capitol, I am usually able to look around at all the supplies and engines.

It's exhilarating knowing that I am doing something that I'm not supposed to be doing. I could be caught at any moment and while I know the punishment at home would be incredibly severe, it almost seems worth it.

This job is my only escape really, no one here really cares about the prestige that my parents hold. They just want to get their job done and go home. They could care less about my personal life and for once that is exactly what I need. I spend a lot of the time here alone, which gives me time to think, but at least I'm not being watched under a microscope. The security guard with a vengeance towards the Capitol is one of the main people I talk too. I live through his crazy stories and experiences.

I long for that one day, to be able to say and do whatever I want without the fear of being judged. I know that it will happen one day, I can't live at home with my parents forever, but that day seriously can't come soon enough. I'm not sad or even angry about the situation that I am in. I can't help but wonder if I would be if I had the emotions of a normal eighteen-year-old boy. My life is definitely not average and it's not the ideal life. I wouldn't wish it on anyone to be honest but me personally, I am indifferent to it.

In life, we have to go through the motions and just make the best of the situations that we are put in. For me, that means doing what I am told and behaving the way that I am expected to behave until I can start the next chapter of my life.

I'm scared to start the next chapter though, I don't know anything else. I'm almost positive that I will never be a normal man. The only emotion that I am positive that I can still feel is anger. All of the anger that I can feel, is directed towards my parents for making me this way.

From the time we are born, it is up to our parents to shape us into the people we will eventually become until we are old enough to make our own decisions. A parent isn't just some title you earn by having sex and popping out a baby. A parent isn't someone who is distant and far away. And only spends time with you when they are delivering a material possession. A parent is someone who is supposed to love you unconditionally and help you through life's hardships.

I can't do anything with the anger I feel though, I will suppress it and pretend it's not there just like I have for eighteen years. I will be quiet and well mannered and I will follow all the rules. For now.

* * *

 _I don't have any answers_

 _The more know the more I grow_

 _I don't know where I'm going_

 _But I'mma search cause I see hope_

* * *

 **Taffy England, 12**

 **District Five female**

"Stop straightening your food and just eat it, Taf," my mom says, obviously annoyed at the fact that I am lining my green beans up by size.

"I'm almost done and besides, I don't eat meat. You know that" I say, turning my nose up at the piece of meat that is basically mooing at me from my plate.

"You're right dear, I forgot. I'm sorry. You need to eat everything except for the meat, though, you have a big day ahead of you," my dad says, stabbing the steak and putting it on his plate.

"Are you nervous?" My mother asks me, tying her red hair into a messy bun on the top of her head. This is her baking hair, it means she is about to delve into a serious cake project.

"Of course, I am, can't I just stay in with you and make cakes for the rest of my life?" I throw my head back to add some drama before giggling at how dramatic the gesture I just preformed actually was. "Talk about hunger games, people in this district participate in their own every single day with the amount of sweets that they take in," I say.

"Not everyone has a set workout plan at twelve years old, honey. Some people might actually think that you are crazy," my dad chuckles.

"I never said I wasn't, daddy," I joke, shoving a forkful of green beans into my mouth.

I like to be fit, I think it's important to start taking care of your body when you are young, that way you can avoid all of the undesirable health issues in the future. You want to be able to live life to your full potential when you are able to do so, so I started taking care of my body now.

"Alright, sweetie. Go upstairs and get dressed I laid out a pink dress and your strappy white sandals for you to wear today," my mother points down the hallway to my room as she starts to clear the table.

I crinkle my nose and try to hide my disgust at the mention of the frilly pink dress. I decide not to argue today though, it seems to me like today is more for show and for my parents as opposed to me, the one who might actually be chosen to participate in a horrendous activity.

I slide into the silky fabric and strap on my shoes, letting my braid out creating an ocean of red waves. My freckles are extra prominent today, exactly how I like them. Today is going to be a good day, I can feel it and if it's not, I will make it one.

* * *

 _But don't you know who you are,_

 _What's been done for you?_

 _Yeah don't you know who you are?_

* * *

 **Jaxs Williamson, 18**

 **District Five male**

"I just don't know how you don't see it man, girls stare at you everywhere you go," Xander says, styling his hair to perfection and then messing it right up again, that is just the kind of person that he is.

"I see it, I just choose to ignore it. It's not like I would even begin to know how to have a relationship. That requires feeling," I tell him as I straighten my bowtie and tousle my hair to perfection. My parents would have an absolute meltdown if I was on TV without looking perfect.

"I wish I had that problem. Feelings complicate things. You could literally just mow through girls with no feelings and every guy in the district would be jealous of you," he says.

Xander is loud and boisterous and the complete opposite of everything my parents raised me to be. We click, though, we balance each other out, even if I do want to punch him in the face occasionally.

"Well, we haven't got much time to waste. Let's roll," he says, opening the door and heading out into the world that we call District Five. I look around the house just to make sure that my parents are around to say bye too, but they are nowhere in sight. I'm not surprised, though, they are never here.

The air is tense and people don't want to talk so it's eerily quiet as we wait for the escort to take the stage. Once she does, though, I almost miss the quiet.

"Hello, there! Welcome to the District Five reapings, I am honored to be here and talk to you little midgets about the amazingness that is the Hunger Games," she shouts into the microphone. "My name is Zee and I don't want to waste any time," she says, twirling and sending her pink and blue polka dot dress swaying in the nonexistent breeze. She has a beehive of purple hair piled onto the top of her head and big circles of pink blush on the apples of her cheeks.

She walks over to the female bowl and pulls out a slip without a second thought.

"Our female tribute is… Taffy England!" A cry erupts from the people who are watching the reapings. A small girl slowly starts to walk forward from the twelve-year-old section. She has a straight face and doesn't look phased. I can't help but wonder if she is feeling scared at all, being so young. She walks right past the escort and takes her place on the stage.

"Well, I guess this little one doesn't have anything to say, so let's move on," she walks over to the boy's bowl and takes her time, this time, moving the paper slips around with her spindly fingers.

"Our male tribute is… Jaxs Williamson!" The crowd gasps, but I don't really know what to feel so I just walk up to the stage and shake the escorts hand. I feel blank, which is nothing new, but seems like it shouldn't be normal in this circumstance. Zee makes us shake hands before leading us into the justice building, her annoyingly puffy skirt, rubs against my leg the whole way, but that is the only thing that I am feeling.

* * *

 **Hey, guys. :)  
**

 **I wanted to genuinely apologize that this chapter took me so freaking long to post. I had been dealing with some personal things and then when I finally felt like writing again I got the news that a good friend of mine had passed away, so my mind has been occupied. But I'm okay now and I am excited to get this story back on the road.**

 **Thank you so much to glittergirl20 for Jaxs and to Platrium for Taffy. I loved writing for them and they both came really naturally.**

 **What did you think of Jaxs and Taffy?**

 **Who has been your favorite so far?**

 **Predictions?**

 **Also, let's keep the random questions going. What is your all-time favorite food? :)  
**

 **XOXO**

 **Jenna**


	9. District Six Reapings

**Hey there, lovelies! I am so beyond sorry that this took me so long to get up. My summer was absolutely crazy with work and other things. Caleb was in Australia, so I was also in charge of writing Thunder and Lightning. But I haven't given up on this story and I am excited to get back into it!**

* * *

 _But I don't understand how you can keep me in chains_

 _And every waking hour,_

 _I feel your taking power From me and I can't leave_

* * *

 **Myrrh Sensin, 12**

 **District Six Female**

People are always talking, it seems that no matter what the situation is, someone always has something to say. I like listening to all of the different opinions that float around in the district. People are so diverse and interesting. If you just take a moment to be still and silent, there is no telling what you might learn.

When people look at me, they see a small and defenseless child, but they don't know me. I have been small my whole life but the way I look at things, if your brain is bigger than average, your physical size has to be smaller. One person can't have everything, that just wouldn't be fair. I have always preferred keeping my thoughts to myself. I have big opinions for a girl my age, but I choose to keep them in my head where they belong.

"You know, Jackson Sensin. The one with the mysterious daughter that never speaks," A woman with stringy brown hair says, as I pass by her fruit stand. I duck behind the stand, tucking my long black hair behind my ears in order for me to hear better.

"Oh yes, she is a strange one that child. I don't know if I have ever heard her speak," says the other woman, tossing green apples into a sack.

"Oh, she speaks, just not very often. When she does, though, it's strange. She is only twelve but she has the wisdom of someone much much older. It's intimidating," says the brown haired woman, causing me to chuckle and give up my hiding place. The two women turn and look in my direction, shock coming over their faces.

"Oh, Myrrh! How are you darling?" She asks me, walking towards with me with outstretched arms. She embraces me into a tight hug, despite the fact that I can count on one hand a number of times that I have talked to this woman.

"Very well, Thank you," I say, nodding and sending her a slight smile. I nod at the woman standing to the left of her and continue on my way.

"Such a sweet girl," one of the ladies says as I walk away.

I observe all the people around me until I get to the stand where I sell a few of my crops for extra money for my family.

"Hey, Myrrh! How are you doing?" Mr. Malachi asks me, as I set the small sack of vegetables down.

"I'm great, Sir! How are you?" I ask him, giggling with a huge grin on my face.

"Good now, thanks to you!" He exclaims, taking the vegetables and passing me a few coins.

"I'm glad to hear that, Mr. Malachi," I say, still giggling at his excitement and turning around and leaving just as quickly as I came.

Growing up, it was just me and my parents. They didn't want to have any more kids for the fear of not being able to provide for them. Because of this, I spent a lot of time on my own as a child. I had plenty of time to think and come up with ideas in my head. I had time to learn the great concepts of life and decide who I wanted to be from an early age. Spending so much time alone, though, eventually made it difficult for me to verbally express my feelings, so I started to keep to myself more and more with each passing day.

I love smiling and laughing and I love being around people that make me feel good. In a world like ours, though, you need to be cautious. People are selfish and don't have good intentions a lot of the time. If you keep everything about your live private, you will never run into any issues. I like to people watch because of this, I can get a feel for what the people in the surrounding area are about.

I have amazing parents with great shoulders on their heads, they have raised me to respect everyone and be polite while being cautious and judgemental at the same time. It is something that I value very much. The traits that my parents have instilled in me have made it very easy to make friends. I have a small group of friends, and everyone knows me as the polite one. They say I am wise beyond my years and that I am like the mom our group. That makes me giggle because I am only twelve years old after all.

A few years ago, my dad broke his leg and he wasn't able to work anymore. Food started getting scarce and sometimes there was none at all. My parents had done way too much for me. I wasn't going to let my family starve, so I took matters into my own hands. I don't trust people who offered us food because there is always an ulterior motive. I sold my favorite dress and bought some potatoes with the money that I had made. I planted the potatoes in our garden to the best of my ability and watched them grow and grow.

My mom was so thankful that I helped provide for our family, but she felt bad that it had to come to that.

I don't need help surviving, I can do that on my own. I have had enough time to think about the different ways that life could throw curve balls at me. It can try, but I will see them coming.

In a place like this one, you have yourself to count on and that's pretty much it. People will try to walk all over you because you are quiet, young or small, but if you know who you are and if you know what it takes to survive in the life that you are given, then you don't need anything else. Just always be watching.

* * *

 _That's just the way it is  
Some things will never change  
That's just the way it is_

* * *

 **Stefan Porter, 15**

 **District Six male**

The thrill of doing something that could possibly get you in trouble with the law is up there with one of the best feelings ever. You never know if or when you are going to get caught and even if you do, what is really the worst that could happen?

"Stefan, come on! Move faster, boy!" Friedman says, gripping my arm and dragging me towards the train.

"I'm coming, relax!" I yell towards him, mostly playing. I tug my arm out of his grip and keep up with his long strides on my own.

"Don't tell me to relax young man, we could get busted!" He shouts over the loud roar of the train tracks as we get closer to the train station.

"What is the worst that could happen, it's not a big deal," I say softly, rolling my eyes.

"Getting executed isn't a big deal? We already have it hard enough son, let's not add more to our plates," he grumbles, coming to a complete stop at the back end of one of the trains that transports cargo.

For as long as I can remember, Friedman and I have been train hopping. There isn't much to do when you are out on the streets but the views from the back of the trains are incredible. I know it makes Friedman happy, so I am happy to tag along on these adventures.

"Hurry up, get up there weakling," he says, erupting into a deep belly laugh at his own joke.

I roll my eyes and pull myself up on the back of the train. I don't eat a lot, but I am by no means a weakling. Friedman just likes to pick fun at me.

Friedman does the best he can to take care of me, he always has. He is the only person that I have ever known that has been remotely close to being family. The way he tells it, he was a lonely homeless man roaming the streets of District Six. He was wandering the streets late one night when he heard a baby crying in one of the broken and rusty windowsills of one of the buildings he passed every night.

He walked up to the window and saw me laying in there, wrapped up tightly in a faded green blanket. He says that he knew the moment he laid eyes on me that he had to take me and raise me to the best of his ability on his own. He did everything that he could to keep me healthy and alive while living on the streets. If that meant that some nights he wouldn't get to eat, so be it.

Now that I am fifteen, I find myself wondering about my parents and what they were like. I don't miss them, though. I don't think that it is possible to miss someone that you never knew. They didn't care to know me, so I can't let myself get wrapped up in thinking about them. It's not even a big deal. You can't change it, so you can't worry about it.

"Are you ready to hop off?" Friedman looks in my direction, steadying his feet as he gets ready to jump.

"Let's do it!" I say, jumping from the back of the train and rolling into the soft patch of grass that catches me.

"Let's go eat," he says, wiping grass blades off the back of my shirt.

When we haven't eaten in awhile, we go and visit our good friend Orwan. He is a bartender at one of District Six's most well-known bars. When we walk in there, peoples eyes flock to us, almost as if they know we don't belong in there but we just don't give them a second thought. If Orwan is the bartender on duty, he tries his best to slip us food. Bar food is greasy and filling, So I really couldn't ask for more.

"How is life, young man?" Orwan asks, tipping a bottle of scotch into a glass and sliding it across the shiny glass counter to a man who probably shouldn't have any more to drink.

"It's been alright, nothing exciting," I say, shrugging my shoulders and sliding a french fry into my mouth.

"Nothing exciting? What about the reapings, those are getting pretty close," he says, looking at me with sympathy.

"Those aren't a big deal, they don't mean anything," I say, annoyed by the fact that people keep bringing this up to me.

"You know Stefan, one of these days you are going to have stop being so carefree about everything. It's going to come around and bite you in the ass one of these days," Orwan says, setting a glass down on the counter with more force than he probably intended.

I know he is frustrated with me, but I just let it roll off of my shoulders. I don't take many things to heart because you can't. No one else is living my life for me, so I will only worry about the things that I want to worry about.

"Well, I wish you the best of luck, friend," he says, sliding me another small pile of food and smiling at me before walking away and serving his regulars.

"You don't have anything to worry about, son. We're gonna be just fine," Friedman says, stealing a fry off of my plate.

We sit at the bar talking and eating greasy food until the stars come out and the lights go off.

* * *

 _I would like to run away from_

 _Reflections of me in your eyes, oh please_

* * *

 **Myrrh Sensin, 12**

 **District Six Female**

"Are you nervous for the reapings today?" My friend Candice asks with a smile plastered on her face.

Candice is the most upbeat person I know. I don't understand how someone can be so happy on a day like this. It's really perplexing.

"I wouldn't say nervous," I say slowly, being cautious about admitting my real feelings.

"It's kind of exciting if you look at it in a different light," she says, shoving a forkful of the potato scramble that my mother has prepared for breakfast. She doesn't do this often, but on a day like today, I think that she was just trying to take the edge off.

"Exciting how?" I ask her, keeping my eyes on my plate.

"Well, It's not every day that you get the chance to bring your district honor and respect, at least that is the way my daddy puts it," she says.

"There are plenty of other ways to earn respect and honor than by killing people," I state before excusing myself from the table and hurrying into the restroom.

I find that as soon as I have a moment to myself, the tears start rolling down my face. I quickly wipe them away because I find it preposterous to cry over things that you can't change. Every day, I listen to people tell me that I am wise beyond my years and that I seem way older than I am, but at the end of the day, I am still just a twelve-year-old girl. Twelve-year-old girls are allowed to cry and have it be okay, but not me.

I don't want people to know that I have doubts, I don't want them to know anything about me really, so I keep quiet and just watch.

When I have collected myself, I emerge from the restroom to find that Candice had hurried home to get ready for the reapings.

"I laid a dress out on your bed, Sweet Girl," my mom says softly from the kitchen.

I walk into my room and find the second nicest dress that I own laid neatly across the bed. The dress is black and sleek and my favorite pearl bracelet is set next to it. I slide into and run a brush through my long black hair before heading downstairs to join my parents.

Today could go both ways, but I'm hoping it goes my way. I've programmed myself to hope for the best but always prepare for the worst.

That is just the way you have to be in life.

* * *

 _Said hey, little boy, you can't go where the others go_

 _'Cause you don't look like they do_

 _Said hey, old man, how can you stand to think that way?_

 _And did you really think about it before you made the rules?_

* * *

 **Stefan Porter, 15**

 **District Six male**

"Are you ready for today?" Friedman asks me, searching for something in his bag.

"I don't know why everyone keeps asking me that, the hunger games aren't a big deal," I say, buttoning the only semi-decent shirt that I own.

"I should smack you silly, boy," he says.

"Can we just go?" I huff, walking in the direction of the reapings.

Friedman has insisted on coming with me to the reapings. He says that he has stuck with me for too long to just leave me now. I appreciate that but I will be home in just a few hours so I don't want him to take time out of his day to come and watch the boring event that the Capitol puts on every year.

"Fine, Let's go," He says, straightening my shirt and urging me to move faster.

When we arrive, people are already forming groups. The boys on one side and the girls on the other. The young kids are in the front and the older people are in the back. I find my rightful place with the fifteen-year-old boys and stand there. It takes them awhile to get started, but once they do everything moves pretty fast.

The escort walks out onto the stage wearing a long pink gown that is almost like a tutu. It has large chunks of something sparkly in it. Her hair is in big poofy brown curls and she has a tiara on her head. The makeup on her face makes her look almost doll like.

"Oh God, did someone order a fairy godmother?" I mumble under my breath and the boy next to me laughs loudly, causing us to get a look from the PeaceKeepers.

"Hello all, My name is Fauna and I would like to formally welcome you to the District Six reapings. The hunger games are something we should all be excited about, so hold your horses because we are about to get started," she says, slowly walking over the bowl with the names of the female tributes inside.

"Your female tribute for this years hunger games is… Myrrh Sensin!" she shouts.

A small girl with long black hair and a tiny figure from the twelve-year-old section slowly emerges from the group. She stands still for a moment, seemingly to try to get her knees to stop shaking before slowly walking towards the stage. When she turns around the face the crowd, silent tears are falling from her eyes. Her face is stone cold and when Fauna offers her the microphone she doesn't say anything.

"Well, looks like we have a woman of few words. Let's get on with the boys," she says, holding up her big dress and walking over the other side of the stage.

"Your male tribute this year is… Stefan Porter!" She shouts, overly eager into the microphone.

For the first time in my life, I am nervous. I get a feeling that I don't like in my stomach as I slowly walk to the stage. My back starts to get sweat and all of a sudden my palms are clammy. I walk to the stage and take my place next to Myrrh. Everything that the escort is saying sounds like mush in my ears.

The last thing I remember is making eye contact with Friedman as I'm being led away.

* * *

 **Hey, guys!  
**

 **Do you even remember me?**

 **Thank you so much to ElementalEvolution and PrinceOfCorinth for submitting these gems. I like them both a lot and I am excited to show y'all their growth throughout the story.**

 **I also wanted to clear something up here. I'm not quitting Thunder and Lightning. I'll still be writing both stories, it just got a little stressful with college, work, and everything but I wouldn't quit anything. Caleb and I are excited about that story.  
**

 **I am also really excited to finish this one, I forgot how much I love these tributes.**

 **Expect more frequent updates.**

 **What did you think of these two?**

 **Question of the day: What is your favorite subject?**

 **XOXO**

 **Jenna**


	10. District Seven Reapings

_Back off I'll take you on_

 _Headstrong to take on anyone_

 _I know that you are wrong_

* * *

 **Lyric Tang, 17**

 **District Seven female**

"Look at his eyes, they are so squinty! I bet he can't even see," A little boy with curly red hair, freckles, and a belly that hangs over his shorts says, pointing to a little boy across the alley.

He and his friends laugh at the little boy as he walks by. I can't help but notice the sticky chocolate melting off the little boy's plump face.

"Leave me alone, I can't help the way my eyes look!" The little boy says, obviously stretching to make his eyes look bigger and more open.

The little boys mock him and all of the other little children laugh. If there is one thing that grinds my gears more than anything else, it's people picking on other people, especially for things that they have no power over.

"You should be ashamed of yourselves, his eyes are beautiful," I say, reaching my hand out to the little boy. He hesitantly takes it and we start walking away.

"You are one to talk, your eyes are the same!" The lollipop guild looking kid shouts, his belly jiggling with his laughter. I turn around and stare the kids down, letting go of the little boy's hand and slowly walking over to the kids. I don't say anything, I just look. The red head's face hardens as he tries to compose himself. He starts fidgeting and then runs away quickly. His friends take his lead and they are gone just as quick as they appeared. I look down at the small child and see silent tears running down his face.

"Don't cry. Those boys don't know what they are talking about," I tell him, patting him on the head.

"They are right, though, my eyes do look funny," he says looking down.

"Let me tell you something," I start. "Our eyes look different because we are unique. Our eyes tell our stories. We can't be ashamed because we look a little bit different than other people in our district. It makes you special," I tell him, poking him on the nose lightly.

His smile returns and he wipes his tears away. I dig around in the pocket of my washed out jeans and find the wad of bills that I was going to use for lunch. He probably needs it more than I do and it spites my parents in the process.

"Thank you so much! My family can eat dinner now!" He shouts excitedly before running off.

Coming from a district where my Asian heritage is rare and often unrecognized was never easy. People talked all the time and what they had to say wasn't always nice. It used to bother me a lot. I could never fathom how people could not like someone just for the way that they looked. If anything, though, being treated differently for most of my life has made me a stronger person. I am unapologetically myself and if someone doesn't like that, they can kiss my ass.

My parents try to incorporate some of my heritage into our everyday lives, but they aren't the best at it. I appreciate everything that they do for me, it's just that my culture is important to me too. I've never known what my culture was, living in Panem. I would go after school and sneak into the room with the forbidden textbooks and teach myself all about Asia and the people who live there. It has always fascinated me.

I never knew my real parents and the ones that I have now aren't good people. They love me and they take care of me, but that's it. They adopted me when I was just a tiny baby and have raised me as their own. There has always been an aspect of love missing, though. One of my fondest memories of my lovely parents is when I overheard them discussing how they only adopted me because they would receive a tax break and other government based benefits. Trust me, these moochers don't need any more money and it infuriates me that they have so much of it.

After I heard why they adopted me, I started doing things just to spite them. I would take money from them and give it to homeless residents, I started dressing the way that I wanted to dress and not how my mom wanted me to, and I started hanging out with what they call the scum of District Seven.

It pisses them off immensely that their little government deal is seen around town with people that they consider lazy. They don't understand the concept of struggle, so they view anyone who does struggle as lazy. It brings me joy to see the cringe on my mother's face when I leave the house late at night and hop onto the back of a bike of one of the rougher looking men of district seven.

The thing is, most of the time the people who have nothing in life are kinder than the people who have everything. The people who know who they are when they are alone with nothing but a sign and a cup to collect money are the people that feel the most empathy for others because they know what it's like to struggle. People like my parents are stunting the growth of the country because they can't get their heads out of their own asses long enough to realize that differences are what make people unique.

It's hard to enough to be different in a country where you are destined to be all the same. I don't see being different as a bad thing I love the diversity that I see on the rare occasion. I like my shiny black hair and my squinty eyes. I wouldn't change them for anything.

"Lyric! Come downstairs for dinner!" My dad shouts from the bottom of the spiral staircase.

I slip out the window and pretend like I never even heard him.

* * *

 _Don't worry, it's alright_

 _Don't worry, it's alright_

 _Don't worry, it's alright_

* * *

 **Ailo Gunčíková, 18**

 **District Seven Male**

Music is the most amazing thing. It's one of the only things on the planet that can take you away to another time, memory and place. When everything is going wrong in your own realm of reality, you can always trust music to take you away and keep you away until you feel that you want to come back down.

Music has been there for me all my life, without it, my life would have been silent. Literally. I have never uttered a single word in my life. I was born mute and no matter how hard my parents tried to cure it when I was younger, they couldn't. They tried doctors, superstitions, fables and everything, but none of them worked. They didn't want their son to grow up mute, so they put everything they had into finding a cure. When we realized that nothing was going to work, we had to come to terms with it. Surprisingly enough, I came to terms with it way before my parents did. Sometimes I think that they will never accept it.

Just because my mouth is silent, doesn't mean my brain is silent. I would like to consider myself a deep thinker. Because of my Asian culture, I know a lot about the culture and the continent of Asia. I would eventually like to move there, but I know that I can't. There is evil in Panem and they want to keep us here at all costs.

Living in a place where there are so many issues is hard when you can't use your voice to help change them. All I want to do is help, but people think of me as strange or weird. My brain is a busy place because of this and often times I don't know how to shut it out. It can all get to be a bit too much sometimes.

When I was younger, my parents worked a lot. They needed to make up for all the money that they had blown on medical expenses. I've always been used to being alone. My entire life emptiness has been a comfort for me. An empty house means nobody to look at me with pity and sorrow. An empty mind means no thoughts keeping me awake at night. Emptiness had always made me whole, up until recently.

I have started to realize that by staying in my empty little corner of life, I am paving the perfect road to loneliness. I am starting to crave more. I want to know people, to have friends and maybe one day even my own family. I don't want to live an empty life. I am convinced to start living a life that I will eventually be proud of. To most people, being mute would be a severe weakness. It would hold them back from doing a lot of things that they hope to do in life. That won't be me, I can promise that. I tell my story in the things that I love and the things that I come across in my everyday life.

You see, music speaks when words can't. I tell the story of my strength and courage through a bow. Playing the violin takes me to a place where I am armored with any word that I want. In this place, nothing holds me back. With every arm movement, another part of my story gets told.

"Very good, Ailo!" Sarah, my instructor, says, tears filling her eyes.

I smile at her, adjust the beautiful mahogany instrument under my chin and go straight into the next melody.

"Ailo, that is just so beautiful!" she says, clapping her hands together.

I take a bow and quietly exit to my room until I am sure the instructor is gone. I know that she thinks that as soon as she leaves, my violin gets put into the case and not touched again until the next lesson, but she couldn't be more wrong.

One night a few years back, my thoughts were just getting to be too much for me to handle, so I did the only thing I am one hundred percent certain that I am good at. I played the violin. Only this time, I snuck quietly out of my house and went into town. It was late at night so the only people on the streets were the beggars and the homeless.

I climbed up a rusty fire escape the led me to the top of the highest building in District Seven. I closed my eyes and let my body sway with the wind. I sat on the edge of the building and let my feet dangle. With my violin nestled underneath my chin, I began to play. I couldn't stop on this particular night. I was lost in my own little world.

As the songs got more melodic, people started to emerge from their homes. I stepped back to make sure that I wouldn't get seen but every now and again, I would peer over and see crowds of people swaying to my music. It filled every void that I had inside.

Before I knew it, when I would be walking through town and I would hear people talking about my and my music.

"They call whoever it is the whistle of the night, you know," they would say.

"The music keeps me up all night, but I'm not complaining. It's beautiful!" Others would chime in.

When I found out that I couldn't talk, I was sure that I was going to live a doomed life. Nothing good was ever going to happen to me and my story was never going to get told.

I'm realizing more every night, though, that my story is told in a more beautiful way than others.

* * *

 _I see your motives inside_

 _Decisions to hide_

* * *

 **Lyric Tang, 17**

 **District Seven Female**

"You really should go home, Lyric. This isn't the life for you," Des says, looking at me with pity.

"Wipe that look off your face before I do it for you," I tell him, annoyed. I cross my arms and walk to the other side of the worn down bar.

"You have everything you could possibly need at home, yet you hand out there with the lower class. You know no one understands that," he says, throwing back another beer.

"Has it ever crossed your tiny little mind that maybe I'm not asking to be understood?" I ask him, sitting down next to him and stealing the beer from his hand.

"Everyone wants to be understood lyric," he says, staring up at the neon signs that litter the wall.

"Ew. Cut the cheese," I say, putting my head in my hands.

It's late now and the reapings are in the morning. I couldn't sleep so I snuck out my window again and came to see who was around. You never really know who you are going to encounter at the bar at three in the morning but I've found that if you aren't a pretentious asshole to them, they won't be to you either.

The bar is finally getting ready to close and as I'm heading out, I see a man rummaging through the garbage in the back. He is shoving pieces of anything he can find in his mouth. I was going to walk right by him, but I refuse to be anything like my parents.

"Sir, I hope this helps you," I say, holding out a big wad of bills that I had just taken from my mother's purse.

He looks hesitant as he reaches out for the bills but when his hand meets the paper he starts to cry.

"Thank you, Miss," he says, repeatedly.

People struggle every day in the district and that breaks my heart. The thing that hurts me even more though is that there are people like my parents in the world. They see what is going on, but they don't help even though they have more than they will ever need. If you ask me, that is the real scum of the earth.

My life could change tomorrow, for the worse and all my parents are worried about is upkeeping their precious reputation.

They are going to be in for a shock tomorrow.

* * *

 _Don't you worry_

 _Cause it's alright_

 _Don't you worry_

 _You child of the night_

* * *

 **Ailo Gunčíková, 18**

 **District Seven Male**

"Ailo, get down from there right this instant!" My mother screams.

I adjust on the tree branch, but I don't move. The tight leash that my parents keep my on for the fear of me injuring myself is suffocating.

"You are too damn old to be climbing trees! We have to go Ailo," she says, frustration taking over her normally soft voice.

When I was younger, I would sneak out of the house and go play in the forest behind our house. I taught myself to climb high in the trees and steady myself among the branches. I might be too old now as my mother says, but when I need to get away from life for awhile, this is where I go.

"Fine! Get yourself to the reapings!" she says, throwing her arms up into the air.

I can't help but smile at her drama.

When I am sure that I am alone, I climb down and head the center of town for the reapings. There are kids of all ages everywhere. Some of them are crying, others clinging onto their moms but most of the young people I see, are straight faced and cold. I don't blame them, though, this whole situation is messed up.

I finally find my place among the other eighteen-year-old males. Listening to them talk makes me uncomfortable, I am so scared that they are going to try and talk to me and I will look stupid when I can't reply. I stare down at the dirt to make sure that that doesn't happen.

After what feels like forever, a woman in a neon blue pantsuit walks out onto the stage. She has short green hair that is slicked back. The bright pink lipstick she wears makes her teeth look really yellow.

"Welcome to the reapings my little ducklings!" She cackles into the microphone.

We listen to her long lecture on why we are here and how this is going to benefit society so much before she finally strides over to the bowl with the names of the female tributes.

"Your female tribute is… Lyric Tang!" She says smiling, pink lipstick dotted all over her teeth.

A girl with short black hair with the edged dyed blue stands there looking stunned. She slowly starts to move towards the stage, her pace getting quicker as she moves forward. When she reaches the stage, she dodges the microphone and stands with her hip popped and a look of determination on her face.

I wouldn't want to mess with her.

"Next then, your male tribute!" She says, walking quickly to the other side of the stage.

"Please welcome to the stage Ailo Gunčíková!" She smiles.

I can feel the color drain from my face. My hands start to shake. This has to be some kind of mistake. I stand there looking around. When I realize that this is actually happening and that there is nowhere to run, I put on my serious face and begin to walk toward the stage.

When I get there, the escort shoves the microphone in my face.

"Tell us something about yourself!" She says.

I start to fidget and my face gets hot.

"Is anyone in there?" she says, jokingly.

"He can't speak you dumb bitch," Lyrics says.

The look on the escorts face is horrified as she realizes her mistake. Lyrics is being taken into the building by peacekeepers and I am left alone.

May the odds be ever in my favor. This is going to suck.

 **Surprise! I'm not dead!**

 **Seriously, though, this took me a million years to get out and I am so sorry for that. Life got crazy busy and things happened but don't worry, this story is getting finished!  
**

 **I'm not going to lie, I struggled writing these two quite a bit, but I like them a lot so I am excited to work with them more!**

 **Expect another update in the next few days.**

 **What did you think?**

 **Predictions?**

 **XOXO**

 **Jenna**

 **QOTD: What is your dream job?**


	11. District Eight reapings

_I won't let it get to me no more_

 _I don't wanna feel this way_

 _I can't believe I let it go so far_

 _No no, it's not okay_

* * *

 **Taffeta Linen, 18**

 **District Eight Female**

For people like me, you would think that High School would be the best years of your life. It's easy and fun when you are a likable person. But that's the thing, I am way more than just likable. Being likable is for ugly girls. I, Taffeta Linen, am perfection. Being perfect, though, makes High School a mahogany brick jungle.

Don't get me wrong, it definitely has its perks. People would do nearly anything to be considered part of my circle and it's entertaining watching them run around like hamsters on wheels to be my friend. However, being of such high status at school means that there are always going to be people who are jealous and try to bring me down. Good luck to them, though, I don't go down without a fight, ever.

"Look, there she goes, the bitch of District Eight," some girl whispers as I walk by her in the courtyard at school.

I put one foot in front of the other and slowly turn around, sending my long caramel hair flowing.

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?" I ask her, tilting my head and smiling.

"Oh, um. I didn't say anything important. I was just talking to my friend," she says, taking a few steps back.

"Oh, that's good. I thought I heard something but it must have just been your eyebrows crying for help," I say matter of factly.

If she wants to call me a bitch, I will gladly show her one. The girl slowly brings her hand up to her eyebrows and smoothes them, before turning her back and running down the dimly lit hallway.

"That was harsh T, I loved it!" Maybelline giggles and flips her short blonde hair over her shoulder.

Maybelline is my closest friend. It's hard to find people that match up to my status, but she had no trouble fitting right in. She helps with all my dirty work and sometimes even surprises me. She is not a nice girl, but that is exactly why it is so important to keep her by my side. She can do the dirty work and be hated, while I stand in the background planning everything while still appearing innocent. That way, people still love me. It's a win- win situation.

The bell rings, and everyone scrambles to the last class of the day.

My last class is fashion design and usually, I love this class. Designing clothes is the purest form of self-expression. The way you dress shows people the way you feel about yourself, so it's important to dress well. Believe it or not, I like making people feel good about themselves so designing clothes is something that I can see myself doing for the rest of my life. I guess they couldn't have placed me in a better district. I am a Linen, after all.

I am sewing the inseam on a pair of jeans that I have been working on when Miss Bailey announces that it is time to clean up as the final bell is about to ring. The rest of my classmates scatter and clean up their supplies as quickly as they can, but I keep my foot on the pedal and let the slow hum of the sewing machine keep me focused.

The bell blares over the loudspeaker and the other students scurry out. Miss Bailey looks over at me and crosses her arms.

"Taffeta, Sweetie. It's time for you to go. I love your passion for my class but I have tests to grade and projects to look over."

My stomach sinks as soon as I remove my foot from the pedal.

"Do you need help grading?" I ask her, smiling hopefully.

"Oh always so sweet dear, but I am nearly through. I will see you back here on Monday though. Have a great weekend!" She walks away, and sits at her desk, leaving me alone in the center of the room.

The whole walk home, Maybelline talks about how horrendous Sarah's pants were today and how she clearly has no respect for herself, I laugh because her pants were really awful, but my mind is in other places. When we reach my house, I give her a quick hug and drag myself to the front door, stopping and taking a deep breath before I walk through.

"Please tell me that you didn't go to school wearing that!" My aunt throws her head back in laughter. "You look like a hippo," She says, looking me over before returning to her tv show.

"I thought it was cute," I say under my breath.

"You also think that your makeup skills are decent when you actually look like a thirty-three year old hooker who has been smoking for her whole life. Lay off the powder, sweet cheeks," she says.

She is the sole reason that I try to stay late in class and avoid coming home at all costs. I would like to say that she was just in a bad mood today, but her insults and blows are an everyday thing.

It wasn't always like this. There was a time when I was a girl who could care less about her appearance and what people thought of her. That girl was sweet and friends with everyone. She loved being at home and loved spending time with her family. I don't know that girl anymore, though. When my aunt moved in after her house burned down, she went away and I haven't even gotten a glimpse of her.

When she first moved in, she took it upon herself to put me on a strict weight loss plan because she didn't like the way that I looked. She would portion my food out and remind me every single day that I was fat, worthless and ugly. As much as I tried not to let it get to me, I was still a young girl and eventually I let her comments win.

The straw that rubs the camel's back was when she used all the physical strength to push my nose down, breaking it in the process.

The past three years of my life have taken a toll on me. Don't get me wrong, I still tell myself that I am perfection and I would do almost anything to make sure that my peers still believe that I think I am perfect but when I am all alone at night, I hate myself.

If other people think that I have everything together and that my life is perfect, maybe one day I will start to believe it too.

* * *

 _So when you're caught in a landslide_

 _I'll be there for you, I'll be there for you_

 _And in the rain, give you sunshine_

 _I'll be there for you, I'll be there for you_

* * *

 _ **Malyck Ferris, 17**_

 _ **District Eight male**_

" _Congratulations to the graduating class! On the count of three, you may all throw your caps in the air! 1...2… BEEP."_

The sound of my alarm blaring is so loud that it causes my eardrums to bleed and my dreams to die. I have been having this dream every single night for the past month. I am so close to graduating and starting a career. The long robe is draped around me and the tassel hangs in front of my face. My name has just been called and I walk across the stage and collect my diploma. I can feel the joy bursting from my cheeks. The principal is congratulating us and counting down the legendary hat toss. I take my hat off and grasp it tightly in my hand, getting ready to release it and then my alarm goes off, taking my intellectual dreams with it.

When my dad lost his job and asked me to drop out of school, I was heartbroken. I enjoyed school, it was the light of my life. Not to toot my own horn, but I am very intellectual and I thoroughly enjoy things that challenge my brain to think outside of the box. While leaving the education system was ultimately disheartening, I understood why I had to do it and did so without complaint.

I wake up every morning to the sound of the same alarm clock and go to the same dead end job with the same people every day of the week. Having such a set and stone routine bores me and makes me want to pull my hair out, but I do it for my family.

I am able to fully comprehend the fact that in a society such as Panem, doing what you are told is key. The ultimate goal is surviving this miserable life and the key to doing that is biting your tongue, doing what you are told and avoiding the Peace Keepers at all costs.

By no means do I agree with the Capitol instilling fear in all of its citizens in the form of child combat, but I have observed how they work and I know that in order for me to have the most successful life possible, it is important that I keep my mouth closed.

The walk down the hallway to the bathroom seems longer than normal today and I trudge the whole way there. My dream has been taking the energy right out of me this past month, but I can't let it slow me down.

I turn the faucet on as cold as it will go and splash the icy water all over my face, focusing on my heavy eyes. As I am washing away the dream, there is a light tap on the broken and battered bathroom door.

"Malyck, what is for breakfast?" My little brother asks me, rubbing his tired eyes.

"What are you doing up so early, you don't have school today!" I tell him, ruffling his hair.

"Your alarm woke me up too, I thought we could have breakfast together," there is still a hopeful light that shines in his eyes and I love that about him. I hope to work hard enough so that light never dulls.

"Well, buddy, let's go find something," I tell him, drying my face with a tattered and torn towel. I scoop him up and we head to the kitchen.

This is nothing new, but any time that I get to spend with my little brothers now means a lot to me. It's important to me that they still know what love is despite not having a motherly figure in their lives. She made the rash decision to abandon her family when we were all young. This impulsive behavior created a deep void in our family and caused my dad to have to be gone for longer hours at the carpet factory. I was left with my brothers, but I understood and I never held it against my dad or the little ones.

I don't know the reason why she left, my father chose not to disclose that information and eventually I stopped asking, but it is always in the back of my mind. My life could have been so much different had she stuck around and done what a mother is supposed to do for a family. I might be in college, or at a career earning a living for myself and my family. I might be living my dream of using my intellect for a good cause, but instead, I am following in my dad's footsteps and working at a carpet factory.

My life isn't ideal, but I am still a dreamer and the most important thing to me, is to make sure that my little brothers know that dreams aren't too far out of reach. You do what you have to do in the present, but you keep your mind on the future the whole time.

"How do pancakes sound, little guy?" I ask him, pulling flour and sugar out of the cupboard.

"Pancakes are only for special days," he says looking down.

"Today is a very special day," I tell him, standing him up on a chair next to me so that he is able to help me make breakfast.

"Why?" He looks up at me obviously dazed.

"Today is special because we say so. Any day can be special if you want it to be," I wink at him and pour the flour into the bowl, creating a huge white cloud. Joe looks up at me with a huge smile on his face.

"I love you Malyck," he says, wrapping his small arms around my neck.

A lot of people might say that I have a false sense of reality, but that is not the case at all. Life is like a complicated game. You have to have strategies and a game plan to keep going. I am smart enough to know that the key to keeping my family going is hope, even if I don't always believe it. If you strategize and use your brain, your dreams aren't always going to be dreams.

* * *

What do you know about me?

Do you wanna know what I think?

Mean girls, mean girls

I'm a just comb you outta my curls

* * *

 **Taffeta Linen, 18**

 **District Eight Female**

"You know, people would still like you if you were nice to people," Mylo tells me, pulling my hair back into a high ponytail and securing it with a light blue ribbon.

"People will see me exactly how my Aunt Marlene sees me if I let my guard down even for one second," I tell her, coating my eyelashes with sticky black goo. "Weak and insufficient."

"No one would think that. You aren't a mean girl like you put off at school and I wish more people got to see the side of you that I see," She says, pulling away and taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

Mylo is gentle and kind and sometimes it makes me want to be that way too, but I've seen where that gets her and that is nowhere. Being kind is hard when you are pretty too. People will see you as a target and they will walk all over you. I've just been through enough in my life and being seen as weak is something that I am not okay with.

"Well, I appreciate your advice Mylo. Good luck at the reapings later. See ya," I don't give her the chance to answer me, as I quickly exit the room. I don't care about most people's feelings, but I do care about hers so I had to get out of there before I said something that I would regret later on.

I fluff my hair and begin the trek to meet my friends before the reapings. My little suede cross body bag hits my hip with each step I take and my boots make a click-clack sound on the pavement. It will let people know that I am coming so that they can get their applause ready. I reach down into my bag and dig around for my peach lip gloss. When my hand finally secures it, I look back up and run right into the same girl who called me a bitch at school yesterday, only this time her eyebrows are freshly waxed.

"What the hell, you psychopath. Watch where you're going. You almost made me deep throat my lip gloss," I scream at her.

"Isn't that like a normal Saturday night for you?" her friend pipes up.

"You can't talk to her like that!" says, hairy.

"I don't know, ask your boyfriend," I spout back at her as I push them both out of my way and continue strutting down the street.

You would think that sooner or later, people would learn to respect those higher in nobility than them, but I guess it takes some people longer to realize it.

"Taffeta, you look amazing!" my friends ooh and aww as I arrive.

"I didn't ask for compliments to be shoved down my throat, but I know," I say, waving them off. "Let's go get these dumb reapings over with so we can get back to focusing on the more important thing in life, like me," I say.

All my friends start walking in front of me which gives me a second to compose myself. I don't like the part that I have to play all the time, but it keeps me at the top so it's necessary. I've hit rock bottom at home and I refuse to be that low on the social ladder too.

"Hopefully one of the ugly girls gets picked!" I shout and bask in all the giggles that follow.

* * *

 _I know your hope is heavy but_

 _You'll get over it_

 _You'll find another life to live_

 _I know you'll get over it_

* * *

 **Malyck Ferris, 17**

 **District Eight Male**

"Please don't go!" Joe says, wrapping his body around my legs so that I can't walk.

"Awh come on buddy, I'll be back before you know it. We can even go outside and play a game when I get back," I tell him.

"Cool!" he shouts, running down the hallway to his room.

"How are you feeling about today?" My dad asks from the kitchen table. He has his head in his hands and he looks really nervous. His foot is tapping and sweat is collecting on his upper lip.

"I'm.. I'm just nervous about today," He says fidgeting.

"Why dad? According to statistics, there is a slim to none chance that anyone from our family will be chosen. We have done pretty well for ourselves and we stay under the radar enough," I tell him patting him on the back before washing my dishes.

"Malyck.." he starts.

I turn around just as he is crumpling a torn up piece of paper in his hands.

"What is that?" I ask him.

"Don't worry about it," he hesitates, hugging me quickly and leaving the kitchen.

I shrug it off, but he is obviously hiding something and as soon as I get home, I am going to figure out what it is. I would like to say that it didn't bother me, but the whole way to the reapings, that piece of paper is in the back of my mind.

At the reapings, the air is tense and the area is quiet. People are looking at the ground and scurrying to find the place where they are supposed to wait for their fate.

Finally, the escort walks onto the stage. She doesn't look strange like some of the other escorts that I have seen on TV. She is actually relatively beautiful. She has long blonde hair and bright green eyes. Her skin is fair and is dotted with freckles. She just looks out of place.

"Welcome… Welcome!" she says, awkwardly. "This is a very exciting time in… in… your lives!" she starts, obviously faking a smile. "Let's not waste any time and just get right into the action!" I cringe when she speaks.

She walks quickly to the large glass bowl with the names of the males tributes written across them and draws the first slip that her frail fingers touch.

"Give a hand for your name tribute.." she trails off, she looks up and her hand flies over her mouth. She quickly composes herself but her voice is shaking as if she might cry.

"Your male tribute for this year's hunger games is Malyck Ferris!" She says.

My knees start to shake and I can't feel my feet. This can't be happening. I have responsibilities, I have things to do! I realize that standing there isn't going to change my fate so I shakily walk up to the stage, politely declining her invitation to speak.

"Well, let's keep it going," she says with a tear rolling down her cheek. This woman is weird.

"Your female tribute is Taffeta Linen!" she says this time with little emotion.

Screams erupted from the eighteen-year-old section. A pretty girl pushes the girl next to her and begs her to go in her place. She falls to the ground and lets out scream after scream. Finally, the PeaceKeepers drag her to the stage. She seems to have composed herself a lot by the time they finally get her there.

"You're Taffeta Linnen?" The escort asks her.

"Duh, you read my name you idiot. You didn't even tell us yours, you just sentenced us to our deaths like it's something completely casual!" Taffeta screams at her.

"Oh dear, my apologies. My name is Gina Ferris," she says looking directly at me, tears welling in her eyes.

"Mom?" I ask as they lead me away.

* * *

 **Well here is District Eight! I loved writing these two. They were really fun to play around with! Thank you so much to the submitters for trusting me with your babies!**

 **I know these chapters are pretty spaced out, but now that my semester is calming down a bit I should be able to get these reapings done and move along with the story.**

 **Thank you so much to the people that are still reading this story. You have no idea how much it means to me.**

 **What did you think?**

 **Who was your favorite?**

 **Predictions?**

 **XOXO**

 **Jenna**

 **QOTD: What is your favorite tv show?**


	12. District Nine Reapings

_Living in a city of sleepless people_

 _Who all know the limits and won't go too far outside the lines_

 _'Cause they're out of their minds._

 _I wanna get out and build my own home_

 _On a street where reality is not much different from dreams I've had_

 _A dream is all I have._

* * *

 **Laelia Omri, 14**

 **District Nine Female**

 _The snow started coming down the mountain quicker, the vicious sheet of white demolishing everything in its path. Rosalind looked over her shoulder, tightened the straps on her brick red backpack and gripped the saddle of her horse tighter. Kicking her legs to make her noble steed move faster. The roar of the snow got louder and before she knew it…_

"Laelia, one seed per plot!" Mr. Burrington says with a stern look in his eyes.

"I know! I'm sorry, I was just-" I start, but Mr. Burrington cuts me off before I can finish.

"Yes, We know. You were off in la la land daydreaming again," his voice is stern and telling, but he has a gentle look in his eyes. He gives me a quick smile and nods at me to get back to work.

I will never understand why people talk down on me for my constant daydreaming. When you work a dead end job and live a dead end life, you have to find ways to keep yourself going. My fourteen-year-old life in District nine might not be exciting and thrilling, but as long as I have my mind, I will never be bored.

There is only so many ways that you can plant a seed, and I have figured out every single one of them. I prefer to make my rows straight and put the seeds in at an angle. That way, when the plants grow, the branches won't get tangled and everything can grow freely.

"Alright little miss Omri," Mr. Burrington says, scratching his long gray beard and rubbing his barely there belly. "That'll do it for today, good work out there!" He hands me an envelope with a tiny amount of money inside. I smile graciously and start skipping towards home.

I have been planting seeds since I was eleven. It isn't an ideal job, but my dad always told me that any job no matter how small is worth doing right. My parents do their best to provide for our family so the very least I can do is wake up every morning with a smile on my face and a laugh in my belly and head off to work full of cheer even if I don't feel like it.

It is usually on the walk home from work every day that I allow myself to wallow in self-pity if even for a minute. I don't like to, but when you are dealt a hand of cards like mine, it's hard not to sometimes. I take pebbles from my hand and drop them on the ground directly in front of me, and kick them with all my might. I drop the final one as I am approaching our little wooden house butI see smoke rising from the chimney and my stomach rumbles. Smoke is a sign that it is a night where we will actually get to eat. I drop the last pebble and run to the door. Before I even get there, the door flies open and my father runs out and takes me into his arms, swinging me around.

"There she is!" He exclaims. He spins me around a few times before his breathing starts getting heavier and he has to set me down.

"I am fourteen now dad, I am practically an adult. You are going to have to stop doing that before you seriously hurt yourself," I say, extending the envelope of money to him.

"Head inside and wash up, we are eating tonight," he says, taking the envelope and planting a kiss on my forehead.

I run inside and run to the small room that I share with my brother.

"Laelia, be down and ready to eat in twenty minutes!" My mother screams from down the hallway.

After I wash up, I go sit in front of my bedroom window and gently move the purple curtains to the side exposing my drawings. Seeing my stories drawn out makes me smile. I run my fingers over the waxy creations and close my eyes.

I was never able to go to school because of the immense need for more income in my family. I never learned to read or write and that is the most devastating thing to me. My brain is filled with so much joy and imagination to be kept bottled up but there is nothing that I can do about it, so I do my best to express it in the form of doodles on my bedroom wall. I pick up my coal and began to sketch a picture of Rosalind and her horse running away from the snow.

A tap on my shoulder scares me, causing me to draw a smudgy line through my picture.

"Earth to Laelia. Snap back into reality princess," my older brother Barric rolls his eyes and gently swats the back of my head. "Let's eat," he says.

I roll my eyes right back and quickly cover up the artwork.

When I get to the dinner table, there is more food than I could have possibly imagined.

"What is all this?!" I squeal.

"We are celebrating tonight!" My dad smiles and passes me a bowl of mashed potatoes.

"What are we celebrating?" I ask hesitantly.

"We are celebrating the fact that we have food tonight," My dad says, letting out a deep belly laugh.

My mom smiles and shakes her head, putting a spoonful of rice into her mouth.

I look around the dinner table and see everyone in my family smiling and laughing. We might not have much, but we have each other and that is better than any story that I could ever come up with.

* * *

 _"I'm starting with the man in the mirror_

 _I'm asking him to change his ways_

 _And no message could have been any clearer_

 _If you want to make the world a better place_

 _Take a look at yourself, and then make a change_

* * *

 **Ambrose Granada,16**

 **District Nine Male**

History repeats itself unless something is done about it, right? At least that is what every history and government textbook that I have had the chance to get my hands on has told me.

 _Make a change… be the change… make a change… be the change…_

I can't get my brain to shut up. Those two short phrases ring in my mind from the time that I wake up in the morning to the time that my head hits the pillows. It's not like I ask for that to be the one thing that is constantly on my mind, but it is and it gives me the motivation to do just that.

I have never personally struggled, but I am not stupid nor am I blind. Everywhere you look in District Nine there is widespread poverty. People without food on the table every night, there are people without jobs and even people without homes and that is not okay. Something needs to be done about it and luckily, I was given the perfect platform to do so.

My mother is Rosalina Flora Granada. Loving mother, devoted wife, and the ever so hardworking Mayor of District Nine. I'm one of the lucky ones in Panem that lives in a home where the hard work that is demonstrated every day is heavily rewarded, as it should be all around the country. Unfortunately, that is not the case. At least not yet.

I love watching my mom work, it gives me plenty of time to study her every move so that I can decide what I will get rid of and what I will keep when I am mayor of District Nine. I love her with all my heart, but there are drastic changes that need to happen and her choices just don't cut it sometimes. I don't mean to toot my own horn, but given my political status in the district right now, my position is almost guaranteed.

"Ambrose, come downstairs please!" My mother shouts from the bottom of our marble spiral staircase. Her voice goes in and out almost as if it is traveling up with the curls of the staircase.

I shake my head and bury my nose back into my history book. I mustn't get distracted. There are so many things to learn in such a short time. I scan the page, soaking in all the information and burning the pictures into my memory before I am so rudely interrupted again.

"Ambrose! Don't make me come up there and take away all your books. You know I will!" She shouts.

"Mom! I'm busy," I say calmly so that I don't get myself worked up.

"1… 2...3…" she slowly starts counting.

This is what most normal parents do to get their children that are under the age of 5 to listen but unfortunately, sometimes my mom forgets that I am growing up and can be bribed with normal commands.

She has had a hard time letting go and realizing that even with Asperger's Syndrome, I can do anything that a sixteen-year-old without this unique gift can do, and I can probably do it better. I know she means well, but when she starts counting, I am almost positive that I can feel my eyes rolling permanently into the back of my head.

"I'm coming mom," I say, tucking the geography book that my nose has been buried in for the past hour under my arm.

"And leave your books upstairs! No reading at the dinner table sweetie, family time!" For the second time, my eyes hit my brain. They are going to get stuck like that one of these days. At least that is what experts say. I toss the book on top of a big stack and close my door.

When I get to the dining room, the first thing I notice is that our neighbors will be joining us. Most importantly, Maizie Reyes. She is beautiful but I would never let her know that. She is one of the more popular girls at school but I swear she has a heart of gold. That is why people like her so much, everyone needs a Maizie Reyes.

"Hi Ambrose!" She says, enthusiastically waving her hands in the air.

"Uh.. h-hi!" I stutter, clasping my hands behind my back and pinching the skin on my fingers.

The social aspect has never been my strong suit. I don't have many friends around the district because talking to people just doesn't come easily to me. A lot of people have made fun of me for it, but never Maizie. She makes me want to talk.

"Well, what are you waiting for? We're starved," my mom says, pointing to the seat next to Maizie. I slowly walk over and take my place at the dinner table.

The silence is almost too much to bear when my dad finally speaks up.

"Well, the reapings are tomorrow," my dad says mid-bite.

"Oh please, don't get him started on that, my love," my mom says, scraping the last bit of mashed potatoes onto her spoon.

"The reapings are stupid. The hunger games are stupid. It really is just a huge injustice in this country. You shouldn't have to kill other people to prove that you have learned a valuable lesson. The whole thing really grinds my gears," I say, setting my fork down more forcefully than I originally intended.

"We know, Ambrose. Sorry, I said anything," my dad says, giving me the look that means I better shut up soon.

"I'm serious," I continue. "That is going to be the very first thing that I change when I become Mayor of District Nine," I say with a grin.

"Ok, enough," my dad says, basically shutting that conversation down.

The rest of the meal is finished almost in silence. When everyone has finished, my mom tells me to walk our guests to the front door.

"Bye Maizie," I say quietly.

"Bye Ambrose," she says. "Just for the record, you have my vote," she smiles and hugs me before disappearing into the night.

* * *

 _Daydreaming_

 _Daydreaming all the time_

 _Daydreaming_

 _Daydreaming into the night_

 _And I'm alright_

 **Laelia Omri, 14**

 **District Nine Female**

Normally, I am never one to want to stay in bed. Obviously I love dreaming, but you don't need to be in bed to dream. You can find adventure anywhere that you are at if you just let your mind wander. However, this morning is different.

I pull my lavender quilt over my head and nestle myself deeper into my pillow. The quilt is scratchy and the pillow has been used so much that it is completely flat. I used to dream about comforters filled with feathers and pillows so fluffy that even the slightest movement would cause a hailstorm of feathers. However, there is no other place in the entire world that I would rather be this morning.

The reapings. The worst day of the year in my opinion. Everyone is always so down in the dumps and anxious.

"Sweet girl, it's time to wake up and face the day," my mom comes and sits on the edge of my bed. She runs her fingers lightly over my back and then pats me gently on the head. "I don't want to deal with it any more than you do my love, but it's not going to go away no matter how bad you wish it would," her voice is soft and gentle as she lays a light yellow sundress down on the foot of my bed.

I throw the comforter off of my body and go look at my reflection at the only mirror that we have. My blonde hair is knotted and matted. My mom would say that the angels were playing in my hair last night. I can't even be bothered to add curls to it today so I neatly put it in a side braid and add white flowers throughout. Classy and cute.

"Are you nervous?" My brother's voice startles me.

"Of course I am, but it will be okay," I smile at him.

"Normally, your optimism is nauseating, but today, it's reassuring," he says looking uneasy.

"Well, I wouldn't want to run into one of the PeaceKeepers if we are late, so we better get going," I say, hip bumping him as I walk past him.

I go and move the curtain to reveal my drawings. They look different somehow today. I make a mental note of what I want to add when I get back from the reapings today before taking a deep breath and walking out the door.

* * *

 _Gotta make a change,_

 _For once in my life,_

 _It's gonna feel real good,_

 _Gonna make a difference,_

 _Gonna make it right_

* * *

 **Ambrose Granada, 16**

 **District Nine Male**

"Don't even look in my direction," I say lifting my nose out of a history book.

My mom chuckles, nearly spilling her coffee.

"Someone is cranky this morning," she says.

"How could I not be mom?" I ask her wide eyed. "Today is a day that should not exist under any circumstance. It's actually quite preposterous and I'm not going," I close my book and cross my arms.

"Well, it's not too much longer until you can run and change everything, my love," she smiles, adding more creamer to her already nauseatingly sweet coffee.

"Thanks for your support mom," I grumble.

"Let's go. I need to be there and it will look suspicious if my family is not there with me," she throws on a blazer and heads to the front door. I straighten my button up and follow her out, rolling my eyes the whole way. I have no time for this madness. But alas, the show must go on.

Being socially awkward like myself, big crowds can ruin your entire day. There are too many opportunities for things to go wrong. My dad says to just smile at people and the rest will come naturally but it has never seemed to work for me. I assume my position with the other sixteen-year-old males and scan the other side for Maizies face. When I finally find her, she is already looking back at me. I can feel all the blood in my body rushing to my cheeks so I quickly shoot her a lopsided smile and turn to face the front. Just as I do, the escort walks on stage.

"Hello! Welcome, the District nine Reapings! My name is not important because today is all about your beautiful faces! Her pink ringlet curls bounce up and down with each word that comes out of her mouth.

After listening to the long bogus reasons why we do the hunger games she is finally ready to announce the tributes. Curious as to who the unlucky fellas will be, I stand up a little bit straighter.

"Let's waste no time," she walks over the large glass bowl that contains the names of all the boys standing on my side and pulls one out. "Your male tribute in this year's Hunger Games is going to be. Ambrose Granada!"

There are loud gasps heard throughout the crowd followed by whispers.

My heart sinks into my stomach. There is nothing I can do about it except to accept the fact that I am a goner. I won't get to make the changes that I so desperately wanted too. Someone like me could never win these games. There is too much strategy that goes into it.

"Ambrose honey, show yourself," she who shall not be named ushers me to step forward.

I slowly walk toward the stage, making eye contact with Maizie. She has tears rolling down her cheeks, but she gives me a reassuring smile. I take my spot on the stage after refusing to speak and watch her go for the slip of the next unlucky female.

"Your district Nine female tribute will be.. Laelia Omri."

The poor girl looks like she was taken straight out of a daydream and dropped into hell. Her blue eyes get wide and her face freezes. Tears start rolling down her cheeks but she still doesn't move.

"Out of the way," PeaceKeepers wiggle their way in between the other girls and grab her by the arms, leading her to the stage. She also doesn't speak. She must be too stunned.

The escort rambles on and on before they finally lead us into the Justice building. I take my dad's advice and smile at the blonde girl and to my surprise, she smiles back.

 **Well hello there!**

 **I am back! I am excited to finish this story and reconnect with all my tributes for this story.**

 **I won't bore y'all with excuses but just know that this story is about to take off and I am really excited about it. I have decided that after the final reaping chapter, we will check back in with President Arabelle and then get on with the games.**

 **Let me know what you thought of these two!**

 **Who is your favorite so far?**

 **My boyfriend Caleb or IVolunteerAsAuthor is writing another really amazing story right now called Free Falling. It is already closed but you should still check it out. You seriously won't regret it. If you already have a tribute in it, then good luck. :P**

 **QOTD: What three things would you take with you to an island?**

 **Xoxo**

 **Jenna**


	13. District Ten Reapings

_And I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad_

 _The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had_

 _I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take_

 _When people run in circles it's a very very_

 _mad world._

* * *

 **Henrissa Granan, 17**

 **District Ten Female**

 _"Odette leaned over towards her Maplewood nightstand, careful not to wake Charles. She pressed her lips together and gently blew out the candle that had been illuminating the room, causing shadows to dance across the bare walls. She returned her head to her plump pillow and moved her body backward until her body fit in perfectly with the curves of Charles' body. As she closed her eyes, a smile crept across her face. She was right where she wanted to be."  
_

Silent tears roll down my cheeks as I turn the last page of the latest novel that I had been reading. The ending was beautiful. I love stories where everything works out the way that they are intended to. I love the way that the story represented so well that sometimes the struggles that we face in life lead us to exactly where we need to be. I wipe the tears off of my cheek with the sleeve of my oversized beige sweater. I roll over and turn my light off and just as soon, drift off to sleep.

The chirping of bluebirds wakes me up from a night of peaceful sleep. I nestle down deeper into my blankets, not wanting to get up and go help Thomana with her work on her farm. I did promise her that I would help though and I am a woman of my word so I shut down my pity party and roll out of bed. The tangles in my long hair prevent the brush from running through it quickly and I wince with every pull. I take one last look in the mirror before shrugging back at my reflection in the mirror and heading downstairs.

"Good Morning Princess Rissa," My father says, setting his coffee mug down and peering over the newspaper that he had been reading. "Are you off to bless the world this morning?" He asks, chuckling.

"I wouldn't quite call it that," I say with a smirk.

"She's always been a humble one, that Rissa," my father says with a smile as if I'm not even in the room. "Have fun sweetie! I love you," he says, returning to his newspaper.

I grab an apple off the counter and head out the door. The streets of District Ten are filled with dirt roads, horses and cattle surrounding us on every side. The smell isn't very ideal and there isn't much here but I like to see the beauty in all the Growth and life that happens in our district. I like the security that comes with absolutes, the uncertainty of what the future could become if we try to change things scares me so I just choose to love. Love the district, love the awful smell of manure and love the people that inhabit the place that I call home.

In the clearing right before you get to Thomana's farm, there is always hundreds of cows and a few horses. It is one of my favorite places. I am admiring the openness of the area when I see a group of horses surrounding a bale of hay. They all look so peaceful eating together. I smile at this beautiful scene but a disgruntled neigh startles me. One of the smaller horses is trying desperately to get into the circle so that he can eat but every time he comes close, the bigger horses kick him away. It tugs at my heart strings and my eyes start to tear up.

I scale the brown fence and wince as splinters lodge themselves in my thigh. A nail that was sticking out of the rickety fence slices down my calve. I let out a quiet yelp careful as not to disturb the horses. With a few deep breaths, I stand back up and reach into my pocket for the apple that I had packed. I slowly start moving toward the horses, keeping the small one in my direct line of sight.

"Come here little guy," I coo.

The small horse looks startled but curious. He pins his ears and starts trotting toward me cautiously.

"Don't be afraid," I say, holding out the apple.

When the horse is close enough to touch, I reach out and stroke his nose. His coat is rough but his eyes are gentle and loving. I run my fingers through his mane and before I know it, his forehead is resting on mine. Tears roll down my cheeks. Whether they are from my injuries or from the beauty of this moment, I can't be sure. I hold out the apple and he takes the stem in between his big buck teeth before sprinting off away from the others.

"What the hell are you, a horse whisperer?" Thomana's voice startles me.

"Were you here the whole time?" I ask her, wiping my eyes and giggling.

"I was. I'm not sure what the hell I just witnessed but I have to say, it was very impressive. Your leg is bleeding pretty badly though pippy long stocking, let's go get you cleaned up," she smiles.

"Oh please. I was just helping an innocent animal get some sustenance. It's a tough world out there. Even horses need a little love. Not that you know what that is," I tease her, climbing back over the fence.

"You're not wrong," she jokes, flipping her short blonde hair over her shoulder.

The walk back to the Eckert Ranch is quiet. It gives me time to reflect. Unfortunately, we are living in really dark times. With the reapings tomorrow, everything is going to change for someone in an instant. It's not fair and it's not right, but there is nothing we can do to change it. So what do you do? You have to find beauty. Whether it comes from yourself and the things you love or maybe from the things around you, you have to have something that gives you hope and when you find it, you need to grasp onto it with everything that you have.

* * *

 _Cause an empty room can be so loud_

 _There's too many tears to drown them out_

 _So hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on._

* * *

 **Robert "Robbie" Jones, 16**

 **District Ten male**

"Gooooooaaall!" A loud scream comes from outside my window. I put my pillow over my head in hopes that it will drown out the noise, but it doesn't work.

"Go faster you idiot, we only need one more point to win!" A Deeper voice booms through the thin walls that separate me from the outside world.

I throw this pillow down and sit up, rubbing my eyes. This incessant noise has been going on for hours now and at this point I am curious. Cranky, but still curious. I wriggle into some pajama pants. I think I am an okay looking kid, but definitely not attractive enough to be flashing my junk to the whole district. I gently pull the drawstring on the blinds so that the panels are separated and look outside. There is a group of boys from down the road using a cattle prod and a water bottle to play some sort of soccer game. They look like they are having a lot of fun and for a split second, I wish that I could be out there with them. I then, remember who I am.

I've never been the kid that goes out and plays with other kids. I can't ever remember feeling comfortable in a crowd bigger than maybe two or three people. I start getting hot and splotchy and my breathing gets stunted. I don't choose to be this way but this is how it has been my whole entire life. Some people just do better in isolation and I just so happen to be one of those people. After watching the game play out for a few minutes, I pull the drawstring bringing darkness back to my room. I turn around to get back in my bed but my mom is standing in my doorway with her arms crossed. I freeze.

"Don't you think it's a little weird to watch other kids play from your window?" she asks me, leaning against the door hinge.

"I was just seeing what all the noise was mom, I wasn't doing anything weird," I say trying to defend myself.

"Don't take up an attitude with me Robbie," she says, rolling her eyes. With that, she turns and leaves.

"Thank God," I mutter under my breath. I walk towards the door that my mother had left open and reach out to close it when her arm stops me.

"What did you just say to me boy?" She asks, wide-eyed.

"I didn't say anything mom," I say backing away. I know what's coming and it's not going to be pleasant. She follows me into the room and shuts the door.

"I seriously don't know where we went wrong with you. I never wanted a weirdo for a son yet here you are standing in front of me gawking like a disabled bird. Get that look off of your face _now,"_ she says.

"I'm- I'm sorry. I didn't realize I had a look on my face," I stutter in fear. With that, my mom reaches her arm out and slaps me across the face. The tingling on my cheek is familiar but it's a feeling that I will never get used too.

"Sooner or later you will learn not to take up that tone with me," she says.

When I am alone again, I bring my hand to my cheek. It still burns but I know from experience that the sensation will go away soon. My mom has always been one for harsh punishments. Ever since I was a little boy, a slap across the face was the punishment for everything. She never wanted a son like me. She wanted a son that would be something. A son that took initiative and went out of his way to talk to people and become well known in the district. She wanted a son that would help upkeep her reputation and unfortunately, that is just not me.

I don't like being this way. I'm just a socially awkward person by nature. Crowds give me anxiety, meeting new people scares me and I just enjoy being alone with a good book or my favorite movies. My parents don't like the fact that I am so quiet but when you are told for 14 years that what you have to say doesn't matter, you learn to keep it to yourself.

I am socially awkward, but I am strong. I have to be, I am essentially the only person besides Matthew or Greg who cares about me in this entire world. I enjoy being alone, it makes me strong and it makes me feel like I don't have to live up to unrealistic expectations. My two best friends are the only exceptions. They are the same way, except that they have loving parents and people who care about them. We get each other but even then, an introvert needs their space. When you put three of us together it could be days or even weeks before we all actually get together.

I walk over to my dresser and pull out my journal that I keep hidden. I can already hear the nasty slurs that would come from my father's mouth if he knew that his son wrote in a journal. I turn to a fresh page and let myself go.

 _Well,_

 _Mom hit me again tonight. You would think that I would get used to it. I don't. The person who brought you into this world is supposed to love you no matter what. Not resent you because you are different from her. I can't wait to move out. I would like to say that I will keep in touch with my parents when I leave, but let's be real. I probably won't even tell them that I'm leaving. To think that I was going to come out to them soon. That would be the last thing I ever did. My dad might actually kill me if he ever finds out that I am gay. I guess it's just another thing that I will have to keep to myself. I'm seeing Matt and Greg tomorrow before the reapings, maybe I will tell them so that if my name is called, I won't die with a dirty little secret. We'll see. I'm going to ice my face and go to sleep. Thanks for listening._

 _Robbie._

* * *

 _All around me are familiar faces_

 _Worn out places, worn out faces_

 _Bright and early for their daily races_

 _Going nowhere, going nowhere_

* * *

 **Henrissa Grannan, 17**

 **District Ten Female**

"I don't want to go," I say, pulling the blanket over my head. "You can't make me."

"I can't make you, but the PeaceKeepers can and I don't want that for you honey," My dad says, rubbing my back in slow circles.

I throw the covers off of my head. My hair sticks straight up in the air causing me to look like a mad scientist but I don't even care, that's how I feel today. The air is always different on the day of the reapings. It's hard for even me to find a light spot on days like today. It's not fair. Someone shouldn't have to give up their life just so other people know not to cause a ruckus. I am all about keeping things the same for the greater good of society but there has to be another way.

"Sweetie, I know it's both a blessing and a curse to feel things so deeply but it's one of the things that I love most about you. Wake up, get ready and be downstairs in twenty-five minutes. Mom is making your favorite." He gets up, leaving me alone.

I begrudgingly get out of my bed and trudge all the way to the bathroom. Tears fall down my cheeks as I brush my hair and wash my face. I'm not crying because I'm scared that my name is going to be called. I'm crying because a name is going to be called at all. It's unfair and it sucks. Life is fragile and the people in the Capitol just treat lives like we have a lot to spare. It's disgusting.

When I finally get my emotions in check, I put makeup on my face and curl my long dark hair into perfect waves. I slide into a white lace sundress and match it with a pair of tan cowgirl boots. I have to say, for a day that is so sad, this outfit is bright and happy. There is my bright spot for today. It's always possible to find one, even on the toughest of days.

When I get downstairs, the kitchen table is filled with breakfast foods. Bacon, eggs, potatoes and pancakes. Berries with whipped cream piled high fill the saucers that sit next to the plates and my mouth waters.

"This is beautiful! You didn't have to do all this," I smile at my parents.

"Of course we did, honey. You deserve it. Sit," My mom pulls out a chair for me and kisses me on the top of my head.

"Eat up everyone," my dad says rubbing his belly and laughing.

The food is delicious and the conversation is good. With each bite i take, I drop some on the ground for my dog Casey. He should be included in the festivities soon.

I wish that everyone in the district is having a morning like this. No matter where they come from, who they are, what they have or who they love. Everyone deserves to feel warm and loved. It's essential to life, especially on days like today.

* * *

 _When it falls apart_

 _And_

 _You're feeling lost_

 _All your hope is gone_

 _Don't forget to hold on_

* * *

 **Robert "Robbie" Jones, 16**

 **District Ten Female**

It's weird that the only thing stressing me out today is the fact that I am going to have to be in a crowd of hundreds of people. I don't tell my parents that I am leaving, I just slip out the front door to go meet my friends and head to the reapings.

"This sucks man," Matthew says.

"You're telling me, I should still be sleeping for at least five more hours," Greg says.

"You are both ridiculous," I say, chuckling at their complaining. I guess I am just so used to complaining inside my mind. "Listen, I need to tell you guys something," I say.

"You told your mom you were gay and she beat the shit out of you," Matthew says, nonchalantly. "I mean, that's why your eye looks like that right?" He asks, pointing to my face.

"Wait… You knew?" I ask, surprised.

"Dude, we knew. It's not rocket science," Greg says, tossing a piece of bread into his mouth.

"Oh. Cool," I shrug.

That was easier than I thought it was going to be. The rest of the walk to the reapings is just normal talk for us. I think that all three of us just want to get this over with so we can get back home. After a long walk, we finally arrive. We are a few minutes late as the escort is already standing on the stage. She is wearing a dress made out of colorful feathers and sequins. Her long hair is rainbow and her eyelashes have colorful balls on the end of each one. This is why I stay home, people are crazy. We go and find our age group and wait for things to get started.

"It smells gross here so let's make this quick," she says, pinching the tip of her nose as she walks over to fishbowl containing the names of the female tributes. She swirls her hand in the slips of paper for way longer than someone who really wanted to get out of here should. When she finally pulls the strip of paper out and lets go of her nose she makes a face.

"Your female tribute for this years game is… Henrissa Grannan! Come on sweetheart, we haven't all day!" she returns her hand to her nose and scans the crowd.

A beautiful girl emerged from the crowd and slowly starts walking toward the stage. She takes a deep breath and turns around to face the crowd with a smile on her face.

"Do you have anything to say, honey?" The escort squeaks.

"Um. Well, My name is Henrissa Grannan. I believe that I have been chosen for the greater good of the world. I hope my time in the Hunger games will benefit someone else in the long run. I am going to give it my best shot," She says quietly before taking her spot on the back of the stage.

Wow. She's charming. I wish I could be like that.

"Let's continue," she says, ruffling her feathers.

"Your male tribute this year is.. Robert Jones," she says, looking irritated by the smell now.

I can't move. There is no way that my name was just called. I shift uncomfortably in place, but I can't move.

"Come along now son, it smells like literal shit," she says. The audience giggles at her pain. I guess we are all just used to the smell by now. I slowly walk up to the stage and decline her offer to say anything. I don't think I could even if I tried. There goes my life.

 **Hi there!**

 **Well, here is the District Ten reapings! I have three days off from work against my wishes due to a ruptured nose so I have time to get these reapings done. Let me know what you think about these two.**

 **I feel like I didn't do too great with Robbie but I am excited to experiment with him more.**

 **Only two more reaping chapter left and then we will get on with the games! I'm excited!**

 **QOTD: Do you watch survivor? If you do, what is your favorite season and who is your favorite player? If you don't, what is your favorite reality TV show? :)**

 **Xoxo**

 **Jenna**


	14. District Eleven Reapings

_Just like fire, burning out the way_

 _If I can light the world up for just one day_

 _Watch this madness, colorful charade_

 _No one can be just like me anyway_

* * *

 **Lilac Bloomfield, 15**

 **District Eleven Female**

School is one of my least favorite places in the entire world. It's crazy that it's possible to feel so alone in a building full of people. I don't have many friends here. I guess you could say that I am different from a lot of the other girls in my district. It used to bother me a lot but I guess I have grown to be used to it.

I spend most of my time here in the music room, it is the only way for me to maintain my sanity. Music takes you to a place that nothing else can. I love the way that every different song takes you to a different place. To me, instruments are like people. They each have a different history and they each tell a different story. Some incredibly sad, and others bursting with joy. I am busy strumming the strings of a guitar when my teacher comes up behind me.

"Have a good weekend Lilac!" Mrs. Meyers says, patting me on the back as she walks by. "I love your enthusiasm for my class, but you can't stay here forever," she chuckles.

"I wish. I couldn't even think of a better life," I smile, gently setting the instrument back in its case, stuff the music in my worn out bag and head out the door.

My mind is off in an entirely different universe as I stroll along the dreary streets of District Eleven. The sound of screeching tires snaps me back into reality. There is a car less than two inches away from me. The door slowly opens, and the shiny black boot of a PeaceKeeper emerges.

"What exactly do you think you are doing?" He asks, gripping the baton that is strapped to his waist.

"I- I was just walking home from school Sir," I say, smiling.

"Do you realize how dangerous it is to walk in the middle of the street?" He asks, raising his voice.

"Yes Sir," I nod. "I guess my mind was somewhere else."

He doesn't respond. His dark beady eyes stare down at me causing me to break out in a sweat. I can feel the small beads running down my forehead and bursting when they hit the tip of my nose.

"Don't let it happen again," he says, patting his baton and getting back into his car. The tires squeal as he speeds away.

"Well, would you look at that," Rosemarie's voice says from behind me. "His car didn't hit you, that's too bad," she smirks.

"Please just leave me alone Rosemarie," My voice quivers.

"What's the fun in that?" She asks, flipping her long dark hair over her shoulder. The sun hits her face just right, illuminating her dark skin. She looks almost like an angel standing there. One of satan's angels maybe. "People like you are the cancer of District Eleven, Lilac. That car should have done us all a favor and taken you out," her tone is sharp and she is really going for the kill with this one.

"I'm not in the mood right now Rosemarie, I'm warning you right now," I say through my teeth.

"Oh, what are you going to do? Beat me down with your Violin stick?" She sticks her bottom lip out and shivers, pretending like she is afraid.

"Well, I don't know what the hell a violin stick is but I'm this close to beating you down with my violin bow," I tell her. "Obviously a music class or two wouldn't hurt," I say, turning around and continuing my walk home, feeling triumphant.

"Whatever, she is a lunatic," I hear her tell her friends.

I have been bullied for being different my whole entire life. When I was younger, I didn't know how to handle it. I would run home to my mom and cry in her lap for hours. I just simply didn't understand how someone could be so hateful to someone else for no reason at all. Now that I am a little bit older, though, I realize that I am gifted and that is threatening to people like Rosemarie who only have their looks going for them. Her good looks are going to fade some day and then she will wish that she had been nicer to people.

I'm going to tell stories with my music one day. Stories about how a girl who came from nothing worked her way up to the top, music as her only friend.

When I get home, my daddy is sitting on the front porch of our little rickety home, rocking in one of our rocking chairs. His eyes are closed so I tiptoe up the wooden steps, careful not to wake him up. The squeaking of the screen door is seemingly deafening. I wince at the noise.

"Lilac," he says, opening one eye.

"Sorry dad, I was trying to be quiet."

"Play me a song?" he asks with a smile.

"Of course," I smile. With that, I enter the house in search of my favorite instruments.

* * *

 _I'm my own shrink_

 _Think things are after me, my catastrophe_

 _At my kitchen sink_

* * *

 **Arturo Ambrosio, 15**

 **District Eleven Male**

"And that is why we still have an annual Hunger Games," my voice cracks as I spit out the last syllable.

 _Everyone is going to make fun of you. You sound like a girl. You know that's what they are all thinking right now. I'm never speaking ever again.  
_

My face turns bright red as I look out at my classmates. They don't seem to be laughing at me but they are probably keeping it inside to spare my feelings. I quickly nod at my teacher careful not to let one more word escape my lips before returning to my desk and taking a seat. No one says anything and before I know it, the next presenter walks up to the whiteboard.

I have never liked being the center of attention. That gives people too much time to look at you and study you over. They will create a judgment of you in their head and then they won't even bother getting to know you because they think that they have everything figured out already. I just don't bother trying to make friends. It's easier this way.

 _Briiiiiing_

The bell that dismisses us at the end of the day sounds, jolting me out of my thoughts. My classmates start to scurry but Mr. Graeme stands in front of the door.

"The bell doesn't dismiss you, I do. Everyone back in your seat right now," he says, leaning against the door hinge. After a few minutes, he finally decides to let people go. "Have a good weekend and please be smarter out there than you are in here," he rolls his eyes.

"H-have a good weekend Mr. Graeme," I say, pressing myself against the wall so that there is no awkward touching.

 _You stuttered. He is judging you. He thinks you're stupid. Walk faster. Keep your head down._

Ever since I was a little boy my thoughts have been louder than my real voice. I have never had the easiest time expressing my feelings. No one really knows why I am the way that I am. I didn't have a traumatic life, I was raised in a home with pretty average parents. My dad is just there and my mom is _always there._

"Arturo go out and make friends!" is her favorite phrase. She says that it pains her as a mother to see me sit in the living room writing day after day. I personally think she just doesn't understand me. She has never had to be a fifteen-year-old boy so she doesn't get an opinion on this.

After a long walk home, I throw my book bag down on the table and a sigh of relief follows. I can move and speak freely in my own home without the fear of someone judging me. It's the best part of the day for me. I kick off my shoes and face plant into the sofa.

The edge of the cushion pushes up my pudgy fifteen-year-old cheek. It's not comfortable but I am too lazy to move so I just give in to the pudge.

I don't remember falling asleep but when my eyes finally fluttered open, it's pitch black outside. Unfortunately, this is my everyday routine. Sleep all day, party all night. By party, I mean write in my journal.

I used to be insecure about having a journal, but the older I get I realize it's the only place that I can fully be myself. It's not like I'm sitting in my room telling a piece of paper all of my emotions. I'm creating a world where I can just simply be Arturo.

In my little make believe world, I have more friends than I know what to do with. A thought pops into my head and I speak it instead of holding it in. In my world, insecurities are just a figment of my imagination and I can do anything that I set my mind too.

I am about to write an ending to a story about a big party that is thrown just for me when my mom walks in.

"Arturo, it's 3 in the morning. You really should be in bed," she says gently.

"I'll go in just a second mom, I'm finishing up something," I tell her, adjusting my journal so that the words are just out of her line of vision. I would never hear the end of it if she read these.

"I wish you would use your writing for something, sweetie. You are so talented."

"Thanks, mom," I say awkwardly.

I'm not used to getting compliments, even if they are from my own mother. I guess the way I see it is that there is so much wrong with me that everyone is lying to me. They are trying to make me feel good about myself so that I don't permanently shack up in my room and never come out again.

In this reality, things don't seem like they will ever get better. I'm always going to be the boy who was too afraid to do anything with his life. I want to get out there and change it, but my thoughts always win. They are always there to remind me of my flaws. I look up from my desk and smile. I know that if she sees me smile, she'll leave me alone.

"Well, get some shut eye soon. You need the energy to tackle the day." she places a kiss on my forehead and closes my door.

It's going to take a lot more than energy to me through this life.

 _His voice was loud clear. He cleared his throat and repeated himself just in case anyone missed it the first time. The crowd of people all lifted their cups to cheers.  
_

I will be someone. One day I will be the center of attention and I will love every second of it.

* * *

 _Just like magic, I'll be flying free_

 _I'mma disappear when they come for me_

 _I kick that ceiling, what you gonna take?_

 _No one can be just like me anyway_

* * *

 **Lilac Bloomfield, 15  
**

 **District Eleven Female**

 _Lavenders blue, dilly dilly, lavenders green. When you are king, dilly dilly, I shall be queen._

The melody of the lullaby my parents sang to me when I was younger fills my ears with such joy as I sit on the front porch lightly strumming a worn out guitar and humming to myself.

Life was so much easier when I was little. If someone bullied me for being different, I could just rush home and climb into my dad's lap. He would sing to me and make sure that I knew being different was something to embrace. Daddy could still get around then. Now we are lucky if he even gets out of bed.

A few years back he started getting really sick, that was when my world started falling apart. The man that once sang to me every single night until I fell asleep was lucky if he could even get out a few sentences. I watch him wither away every single day and it's hard for me so I just indulge in music and loose myself.

"Lilac, come inside please," my mother says from inside.

"Coming," I say, taking a deep breath and setting down the guitar as gently as I possibly can.

"Go try this on," she says, holding up a dress that she had made.

"Mom! You didn't have to do that," I say wide-eyed. The material looks familiar. I slowly turn around squinting at the bright light that is now entering through the curtain free window.

"Go out there today and show Rosemarie that you can be kind and fabulous at the same time," she says winking at me.

I run to the bathroom and hold the wine colored dress up to my body. The color really compliments my dark complexion. Shimmying out of my hand me down pants proves to be a task as I trip and fall, nearly hitting my head on the counter.

When I finally get the dress on, I have never felt more beautiful. The sleeves hand just off my shoulders and the dress ends just under my knees. I spin in circles in the mirror, taking in my appearance. The other girls in the district have a way of making me feel like I'm not good enough but for the first time in a long time, I am ready to go face them.

I scrunch my tight curls a few times before turning the light off and heading back into the living room to show my mother her creation.

"Lilac," my dad whispers as I walk by the bedroom. "You're beautiful," he manages to spit out. He spins his finger in a circle urging me to twirl. He claps his hands together and gives me a slight smile before laying his head back on his pillow

"I love you, sweetie," he whispers.

"I love you too dad. I'll come sing you a song when I get back from the reapings." I tell him. He nods his head and just as quick is asleep.

I give my mom a quick peck on the cheek and head off the reapings, going over what song I will sing to my dad when I get back.

* * *

Pointless curses, nonsense verses

You'll see purpose start to surface

No one else is dealing with your demons

Meaning maybe defeating them

Could be the beginning of your meaning, friend.

* * *

 **Arturo Ambrosio, 15**

 **District Eleven Male**

"I, Arturo Ambrosio of District Eleven will do my best to bring back a victory!" My reflection in the mirror is the only person standing in front of me listening to my speech. I picture myself standing on the stage, looking out at all of my peers from my district and being as brave as I can be.

I'm not stupid. I know that there is less than a five percent chance of my name being called today at the Reaping but part of me hopes that if for some reason I was, that I would be able to swallow all my fears and win the hearts of sponsors everywhere. My voice would stay deep and everyone would be too in awe of my words to judge me on anything else.

"Arturo, come on!" my mom shouts from downstairs.

"Coming mom," I shout back.

I hate crowds. I don't want to go. I close my eyes and start pacing the short distance that is the bathroom.

 _Everyone is going to be looking at you. Don't talk. Your voice will crack. They're all going to laugh at you._

"Shut up!" I yell into thin air. I wish for just once that my thoughts would be positive. They never are, though, they are like a constant dark cloud looming over my head keeping my in my own little bubble forever.

"Are you okay?" My mom peeks her head in the door.

"I'm fine," I say, taking a swig of water and rushing out the door.

When we get to the big open area where the reapings are being held, there are already people everywhere. There are groups of friends talking somberly and parents hugging their children just in case they are about to say goodbye. Then there is me, standing alone in the middle of a crowd of hundreds, biting my lip so that I remember not to speak. I just want to get this over with so I can go home and write a story about it,

"Well hello there everyone!" A woman wearing a long purple dress and silver sparkly shoes stumbles onto the stage. "My name is Flora Vineyard and as much as I would like to say that I am excited to be here, I'm just really not!" She winks at the camera and takes another gulp out of what appears to be a wine glass.

"Well.. Less gets started," she slurs.

She wastes no time in walking over the boy's bowl and misses the opening a few times before finally drawing out a slip of paper.

"Your male tribute for the whatever is… Arturo Ambrosio!"

I can't feel anything. This can't be right. This must be a mistake. I look around just to see if maybe someone had a plan to volunteer but when I realize that is wishful thinking, I slowly put one foot in front of another until I am at the stage.

"Hello there little guy," Flora spews. "Do you have anything that you want to say to the crowd?"

I gulp, and open my mouth to begin speaking, but my thoughts get the best of me.

 _They're all going to laugh at you. Just shut up and take your place. Shhhh._

I nod my head no and quickly take my place behind her.

"Well, every boy needs a woman to survive, so let's give him one." she giggles at nothing and walks over to the other side of the stage, quickly drawing out a slip of paper.

"Your female tribute is… Lilac Bloomfield," she says, chugging the rest of her wine.

A girl in a red dress emerges from the fifteen-year-old section. She stands there for a moment with tears gathering in her eyes. A Peace Keeper starts towards her but she balls up her fist and lifts it towards him. She doesn't let him get near her but instead walks right on the stage and right past Flora. She takes her spot nex to me and gives me a reassuring smile.

"Well, that's that," flora says. She throws her wine glass into the audience and then leads us into the justice building.

 **Hey y'all! :)**

 **Here are the District Eleven reapings. We only have one left before we can get this story rolling. I am so excited to finally get going.  
**

 **I loved these two a lot, I thought they were both really unique and although I struggled with Arturo a little bit, I am excited to develop him further.**

 **What did you think of these two?**

 **Do you have a favorite so far?**

 **Do you even remember the other tributes since it takes me a million and five years to update? :P hahaha**

 **QOTD: Would you rather never be able to walk or never be able to talk?**


	15. District Twelve Reapings

_I was born in a thunderstorm_

 _I grew up overnight_

 _I played alone_

 _I'm playing on my own_

 _I survived_

* * *

 **Irene Holland, 16**

 **District Twelve Female**

 _Left. Right. Left. Right._

I quickly move the yellow pencil to each side of the ladybug. It looked content just sitting there on the bench. Now, though, it's just kind of sitting there confused like it can't comprehend what is happening on each side of its tiny little body.

"Irene, come on home. Your brothers and sisters are waiting for you so that they can eat. The last one in gets meager portions," my mother smirks as the last sentence leaves her fat, chapped lips.

I glare at the space that my mother was just standing. For a second, I want to go home. It's been a long day and I feel homesick but then I remember that the home that I am homesick for doesn't exist. I didn't grow up in a home. A home is supposed to be filled with love and support. Those two words, though; aren't in my parents vernacular, So, I've made do without them.

The ladybug flies and lands directly next to my thigh.

 _Squish._

I bring the pencil down directly into the little lady's exoskeleton. Green guts ooze out of her side and her wing flutters before it grows still. I wipe the corpse off of the bench so that I don't have to see it next time I come relax on my bench.

"It's about time, Irene!" Cordin says, moving his beautiful golden hair out of his face and smiling up at me.

"Do not smile at her," my mother says. "She has caused the family to wait for our meal. Who knows what trouble she was out causing for the family," she whispers as she scoops a tiny portion of mashed potatoes onto my plate.

"Oh hush, you cow. I have been on the bench across the street for hours just so I didn't have to waste away in this garbage can that you try to call a home," I say.

My siblings drop their spoons and stare at me wide eyed and jaws dropped. They would never even dare speak to our parents like that. Then again, my parents would never speak to my siblings the way they speak to me so I might as well give them a show.

I don't know what was different with me, but ever since I was born, my mother has resented me. Anything that has ever gone wrong has been my fault. They think so poorly of me that I have finally realized it is much easier on my emotions to just play the part. It makes my siblings look like little golden hearted prudes. But I mean, if the shoe fits right?

"Get out of my house this instant, Irene! I mean it!" My mother puts on her fake frown, the one that is glued to her mug when she wants my father to pay attention to her.

"My pleasure," I grab the serving spoon out of the mashed potatoes and lick it clean before giving a curtsey and flinging the shiny spoon in her direction. I make sure the screen door slams hard on my way out.

I'm used to being on my own. It doesn't phase me anymore. I must've spent more years of my life on the streets than in my own bed. It's taught me how to be strong on my own, so maybe I should thank the cow that birthed me. I know all the tips and tricks to making it on these streets and I do them well.

It's getting dark and the street lights are coming on, but the marketplace is still full of people trying to get their last minute meals in. A rat is nipping at my pant leg. I swat it away, but it always comes back. I wait in an alley behind the butchers. I'm not welcome in the market anymore because apparently, I cause "disturbances." I don't see the wretched bread lady that turns me in, though, so tonight might be better than planned.

The rat that had been nipping at my pant leg, chews through it and nibbles on my skin.

"Ow, you son of a bitch!" I pick up the rat by its tail. It squeals and squirms, trying to get away from my grip but it's not going anywhere. Its tiny white body goes into shock from being upside down for so long. He attempts to bite me one more time, so I snap his tail, toss him aside and emerge from the shadows.

"Mommy look, it's Irene!" my neighbor's daughter looks up at me with wide eyes, she smiles and waves.

"Do not wave at her, she is satan's daughter, Anna. She is a mean woman," her mother pulls her arm and drags her to the other side of the street, just to get out of my way.

I grab an apple off of the fruit stand and bite into it, smiling.

I used to be just like that little girl. Wide-eyed and Naive, Waving at all the strangers that would pass by. I would try my best to appease to my parents. I wanted to be someone that would make them proud, but it was never enough. My mother always gravitated towards my siblings, leaving me in the dust. I wanted her attention so badly, so I started to act out. I grew out of wanting to impress them and started to want to prove them wrong.

You see, my parents would hang a list on the wall above the toilet so that we could see it multiple times a day. On this piece of paper, was a numbered order of the children that they loved most. They updated the list daily, and I was on the bottom of the list for a consecutive two weeks. On the 14th day of being on the bottom of that list, I made a choice. For my own well-being, I had to replace my desire for love with violence. I never looked back.

Everyone in the district had me stereotyped as a malicious little girl ever since I can remember. I tried my best to live up to this stereotype for so long that eventually, I became it.

"Look, babe, Irene Holland is roaming the streets again. Her poor parents," A woman says, gripping onto her husband's arm tighter as I pass by.

"We will just double check our locks tonight," he whispers.

"Yeah, good choice," I mutter to myself, giggling all the way back to the alley.

* * *

 _So many times it happens too fast_

 _You trade your passion for glory_

 _Don't lose your grip on the dreams of the past_

 _You must fight just to keep them alive_

* * *

 **Cole Pagny, 18**

 **District Twelve Male**

I was born on the bottom.

My very first memory is not having enough food to eat and waiting for my mom to get back from one of her late night "excursions." She wrapped me up in a raggedy blanket and left me with a book. She was gone for hours. I had already looked at all the pictures in the book close to ten times so I needed to find some other way to entertain myself until my mom came back from working. I counted the times that my stomach rumbled until she got home.

By the time she came moseying back into our makeshift home, I had counted to fifty-two. She gave me a quick kiss on my head and handed me a banana and a pack of peanut butter crackers. She smelled like a mixture of smoke, men's cologne, and sweat. It smelled awful, but it was comforting. I shoved the food down my throat, wrapped up in my blanket again and dozed off, using my mom's thigh as a pillow.

That is not a memory that any child should have, let alone a first memory. I still have flashbacks to that night because it is important to me to remember where I came from and to remember where I never want to be again.

"Cole! How are you?" A woman pats me on the shoulder and smiles at me brightly. "I haven't seen you in forever," she says, tugging at her clothes. She looks ragged and her clothes are tattered and torn but her spirits are still bright. I've learned to appreciate these types of people.

"Hello!" I smile back at her, reaching out to shake her hand. "I don't come over to this side of town much anymore, I'm just picking up some things for the bakery," I set down the boxes that I had been carrying and rummage through them until I find the pack of muffins.

"I'm glad to see you doing so well for yourself, Cole. It warms my heart," she smiles at me and begins to walk away.

"Wait Miss!" I hand her the pack of six muffins and smile at her, urging her to take them.

"You never belonged in a place like this Cole, you have a heart of Gold," She reaches out slowly and takes them. Tears start forming in her eyes.

Being back on this side of town is never easy. It's a part of my past that I would live to just block out, but it made me who I am today. I pick the boxes up off of the ground and start my journey back to the other side of District Twelve. Passing all of the brothels that I was raised in throws me into memories that I tried so long to suppress

The night before my tenth birthday, I was starving. My mother had run off to another brothel with another strange man and left me to fend for myself. I was sitting behind the brothel that we had lived in longest when a man approached me.

"What's wrong, Son?" he asked.

"Tomorrow is my birthday and I'm lonely and hungry," I said, feeling bad for complaining to this complete stranger.

"Come with me," he said.

My mom was obviously not the type to tell me to stay away from strangers, so I went with him. I learned shortly after that he was the owner of the Bakery on the other side of town. He let me eat as many cupcakes as I could stomach and then offered me a job. My life was never the same from that moment on and I never looked back.

I would run errands for Mr. Amstar and Deliver the baked goods and before I knew it, I found myself at the top for the first time in my life. I was at the top of the small group of delivery boys and it felt good. That feeling still drives me today, to do my best and keep reaching for more. When I was thirteen years old, I was promoted to a job in the kitchen. It meant long hours standing directly next to the oven, but it was more money so I never complained. I rarely ate anything and put away all of the money that I earned for my future. Mr. Amstar was so impressed by my hard work that he promoted me again. This time, to his assistant. This meant much higher pay and that I was able to live in the attic of the bakery.

It was my first real home and the first place that I really felt like I belonged. Mr. Amstar became my family and for the first time in my life, I felt like I had a family. Unfortunately, that didn't last long.

When I was seventeen years old, Mr. Amstar fell ill. He could no longer bake and was afraid of losing his business so he signed everything over to me. At seventeen years old, I ran a prosperous bakery and days of hunger were a thing of the past for me.

When Mr. Amstar passed away, he asked me to move into his house and made me promise that I would keep his bakery running. I'm going to do everything in my power to keep that promise to him.

Today, the bakery is still running smoothly and the sales are good. I have been able to hire three new employees to help me bake and deliver things all over the district. My mother, who has been homeless almost all her life, is living comfortably in the attic that was once my first home. I support her with the income that I make from the bakery.

I am only eighteen years old. I don't know everything, and I have a lot to learn still, but the boy who was born on the bottom is on the top now.

I went from not knowing if I was going to live to help someone else live and that is a humbling feeling.

* * *

 _Hey_

 _I wanted everything I never had_

 _Like the love that comes with light_

 _I wore envy and I hated that_

 _But I survived_

* * *

 **Irene Holland, 16**

 **District Twelve Female**

"I'm really scared, it's just not right. I don't want anyone of you having to go through that," my older sister is sitting on the park bench next to me, with her head in her hands.

"Oh come on, pull yourself together. It's not the end of the world. It's kind of exciting actually," I tell her.

Reaping day. The day that everyone in the district dreads. Well everyone except for me that is. I think it's an ingenious idea. It's just another way to off some of these miserable cows that mope around the district acting like their lives are so hard. They wouldn't know a hard life if it came up to them and smacked them in the face.

"Irene, I don't even know who you are anymore," she says, with more tears streaming down her face. "For the love of God, please leave those poor bugs alone!" She gets up off of the bench and runs away.

I look down at the small pile of moths that I have pulled the wings off of during our bland conversation and shrug. My sister's desperate plea makes me consider letting the small insect that I have trapped in between my fingers so, but I decide against it. I rip off the tiny creature's wings and smush them in between my fingers, tossing the corpse into the pile with all his little wingless friends.

" _Mother!_ " I scream as I enter the Holland house.

"Lower your voice this instant, young lady!" my mother says, raising her hand at me.

"Since you are so concerned about what people think of our family, I need something to wear to the reapings today," I roll my eyes and swat her hand out of the way, leaving a trail of moth guts on her forearm.

"Here. Now change and get out of my house," she scowls and then goes back to carefully curling my younger sisters golden blonde strands.

I put on the wretched white dress and head to the reapings. I don't care to wait for my siblings, they are in good hands.

"Let's go get this over with," I say to no one in particular.

* * *

 _Rising up, back on the street_

 _Did my time, took my chances_

 _Went the distance, now I'm back on my feet_

 _Just a man and his will to survive_

* * *

 **Cole Pagny, 18**

 **District Twelve Male**

"We need to just have a set plan just in case, man," I tell my assistant. "I promised Mr. Amstar that his bakery would never go to waste and I intend to keep that promise," he nods as if he is hearing me but he doesn't say much.

"Everything is going to be okay, honey," my mom says, coming down the winding staircase that leads to the attic.

"I know that mom, but I just think it's smart to have a set plan in place just in case," I tell her, with a concerned smile.

"I mean, worst case scenario, I can take over until you get back out," she sits down at the table and crosses her legs. I throw my head back and chuckle until I realize that she is serious.

"Mom, I mean this with the utmost respect, you don't exactly have the most reliable track record and this bakery is my entire life," I say, gently.

"How many damn times do I need to apologize to you, Coley?" She asks me, getting up from the table.

"Mom, sit down. Today is not the day. I am going to leave Pierre in charge if need be, but he will definitely need your help. This seems to settle her down as she returns to the table.

"You know, I am so proud of the man that you turned out to be, my love. I'm sure your dad was a strong man, whoever he was," she says, giggling. Pierre looks uncomfortable and shifts in his chair.

"Well, I'm glad that's settled. Pierre, let's go," I say, straightening my light blue button down.

The reapings are always a somber scene. There are people who are obviously afraid and then there are the people who just really don't care. Pierre and I find our place among the eighteen-year-olds and wait patiently. Eventually, the escort comes out.

"Hello there! My name is Ellie Rawlings and I am your escort for District Twelve. The lovely, and slightly smelly and depressing, District Twelve! Let us all celebrate this glorious day together!" she says, the bright pink bun on her head bounced with each word that leaves her mouth.

She has on bright pink stockings and a victorian style black dress. Her hair is the same color as her stockings and it's just thrown into a messy bun on the top of her head, for some reason, it still looks elegant, though. She seems to have painted her face to appear even paler than she already is. She has applied obviously false lashes way under her eyes to make them appear bigger and like a demented porcelain doll. She looks like someone my mom would have befriended thirteen years ago.

"While I would love to stay and spend time with you all, I think it's better that we just get right to it. We will start with the ever so darling ladies," she struts to the glass bowl and quickly draws a slip out.

"Your lovely lady contender is… Irene Holland!"

The crowd collectively gasps, this is going to be good.

A smaller girl emerges from the sixteen-year-old section. Her fists are balled up and she is groaning angrily. She stomps up to the stage and stands there with her arms crossed.

"Hello lovely, would you like to say anything?" she asks her but before she can even get the words out, Irene is grabbing the microphone.

"I am so angry! This is soo tragic. This is quite possibly the worst thing that has ever happened to me. It's just not fair!" She screams into the microphone. Sarcasm is clearly intended here but I have a feeling not everyone caught on.

As Irene hands the microphone back to Ellie, there is a sinister grin on her face.

"Well, that was certainly interesting," Ellie giggles. "Let's move on," she says walking over to the boy's bowl.

"Your fella contender is… Cole Pagny!" she screeches into the microphone.

This can't be happening. No. Things were going so well. My legs don't want to move.

"Oh Cole," the escort sings.

My legs finally decide to move and I slowly make my way to the stage. I am scanning the crowd for Pierre. When I find him, he gives me a nod and I feel a tiny bit better. Although, I don't think that feeling of comfort is going to last for long. I deny the microphone and Ellie leads us into the justice building.

* * *

 **Hi!**

 **Well, We are FINALLY done with the reapings. I want to apologize for the fact that it took me this long. When I start something, I will always finish it. I am excited to meet back with our earlier tributes and get on with the train rides!  
**

 **Do y'all want to check back in at the Capital or get straight to the train rides?  
**

 **What did you think of these two?**

 **Now that you have seen all of the tributes, who are your favorites?**

 **Predictions?**

 **QOTD: What is your favorite quote?**

 **XOXO**

 **Jenna.**

 **PS. My boyfriend IVolunteerAsAuthor is going to start a sequel to Home of the Brave. He is currently taking tributes. It's going to be such a good story so don't miss the opportunity to submit. Everything you need is on his profile. Check it out :)**


	16. Summary

**I want to start this off by apologizing. I think it is obvious that I had been losing interest in this story for awhile. Updating became like a chore for me and I just really lost all motivation for this one. No one was reading anymore which was my own fault for taking too long in between updates. I just was struggling. Not because the tributes were bad because they were so freaking amazing and I seriously loved them all but because I didn't like the plot and the arena anymore. It just was becoming something I wasn't passionate about anymore. I have come up with an idea for a new SYOT that I promise I will finish because the idea I have revolves around something that I love so much. I will be posting that prologue tonight and I sincerely hope you will all forgive me and submit to my new one so that I have the chance to bring amazing tributes to life. Caleb said that he will absolutely make me finish my new one so please give it a chance haha. Without any more babbling here is my summary.**

 **Bloodbath:**

 **24th: Jaxs Williamson: District Five.**

Tributes were standing on their platforms waiting for the games to start. Jaxs was looking around the other tributes and nervously. He hadn't gotten the chance to make any allies so he looked around quickly, hoping for some sort of last minute eye contact. He was shuffling his feet nervously and happened to slip off of his podium.

 **23rd: Robert Jones: District Ten**

After the timer went off, the tributes started running towards the lobby for supplies, Robert felt something hit him from behind. He turned around and Alleluia from District one was holding a pen from the check in desk. She tackled him and though he fought back to the best of his ability, is was useless. She shoved the pen into the side of his neck and smiled at him as she walked away.

 **22nd:** _ **Ailo Gunčíková: District Seven**_

Ailo had just reached the lobby and was shoving as many supplies as he could fit into his backpack. He was zipping the zipper up when someone grabbed him from behind. Roman from District four has him in a chokehold and was squeezing as hard as he could. Ailo wanted to scream for help but being that he had no voice, he just gave into his fate. His eyes went black and his body went limp. Roman took the backpack and ran off.

 **21st: Myrrh Sensin: District Six**

Myrrh thought that laying low was the best way to get out of the bloodbath alive, so she found a coat closet closest to the lobby where the supplies were located and pulled her alli Taffy in with her. Her plan was to wait there until all of the tributes had scattered. They heard footsteps coming from directly outside the closet. Taffy squealed quietly and the footsteps stopped. Gillian Donnan from District Two threw open the closet door. She had a knife in her hand and went directly towards Taffy. Taffy managed to fend for herself and squeeze out of the side. Myrrh put up her best fight, punching Gillain in the face. This made Gillian mad so she shoved the knife into the side of Myrrhs head. Her eyes went dark quickly.

 **20th: Lyric Tang: District Seven**

Being the sweet and compassionate girl that she is, Lyric saw Taffy running away crying. She felt for the younger tributes so she followed after her. Valour from District one cut her off in the main hallway of the lobby. She flew to the ground but was able to grab a shattered piece of glass from a broken picture frame. Valour had his hands around her neck but she kept kicking him in the groin. They struggles until they ended up in front of the elevator. Valour threw her to the ground and used his knee to crush her throat. Lyric stabbed him in the leg before she faded away.

 **19th: Valour Clos: District One**

After killing lyric and being stabbed in the leg, he was unable to get up. He had managed to pull himself halfway out of the elevator doors before they abruptly closed, crushing his stomach and causing his intestines to rupture.

 **18th: Lilac Bloomfield: District 11**

Lilac was walking with her allies Arturo and Ambrose in the closed off pool area when Malyck Ferris of District Eight spotted them. Being a wary young man, he didn't trust that they weren't going to hurt him so he took action. Holding a switchblade, he came up behind Lilac and threw her into the pool. He was bigger than her so she didn't put up much of a fight. With one last second of holding her underwater, her body sank to the bottom.

 **17th: Sylvester Morse: District Three**

Sylvester had been watching the chaos ensue and it terrified him to the core. He wasn't sure that he could handle being in the arena. He decided that he wasn't confident enough to kill anyone and that he wouldn't put up a fight. He just wanted out. He begged his District partner to just end it for him and although it pained her, she did.

 **Day one:**

 **16th: Nolan Durala: District Two**

Felicite, Laelia, Ambrose and Roman were sitting in one of the rooms, discussing the future plans of their alliance. They figured that their best bet would be to try and put their strengths together to take out the careers. A bold but brave move. Nolan, being so in love with himself was in search of a mirror and just so happened to stumble in on the discussion. They couldn't let him leave and get the careers against them so Roman and Ambrose held him down while Felicite smothered him with a pillow.

 **15th: Stefan Porter: District Six**

Stefan and Ambrose had been hiding out since the bloodbath in an empty figured the best strategy was to let the stronger tributes take each other out first, so they could actually stand a chance. They were taking turns sleeping so only Stefan was awake. He thought he saw a little girl in a victorian style outfit float past the door so he followed her. He ended up in the area that contained the hot tub. The little girl was floating with glowing eyes and for some reason he couldnt stop following her. He fell into the hot tub and a little ghostly arm held him under. The hot tub bubbled up and the last thing he saw was her glowing green eyes.

 **14th: Arturo Ambrosio: District Eleven:**

He woke up and Stefan was gone. The door that Stefan was supposed to sit in front of to keep it open had closed and no matter what he did the door wouldn't open. Suffering from anxiety attacks, Arturo started hyper ventilating. He couldn't catch his breath and eventually he got himself so worked up that his heart just stopped.

 **Day Two:**

Alleluia, Taffeta, Gillian and Henrissa were exploring the top floor. The hotel was beautiful but eerie. The lights were dim so they couldn't see to the best of their abilities. They heard noises coming from around the corner but as they hushed each other the noises stopped. Taffeta peeked her head around the corner alarming Cole, Irene and Malyck. A huge fight broke out. Malyck grabbed Taffeta by her long hair and used it to strange her, Irene ruthlessly gutted Henrissa because she didn't have it in her to kill someone. Alleluia had enough of boys thinking that they could just walk all over people and used her boot to stomp Malycks head in. He got a good hit in before he faded away causing her to fall and hit her head badly on the sharp trimming that lined the walls.

 **13th: Taffeta Linen: District Eight**

 **12th: Henrissa Grannan: District Ten**

 **11th:** **Malyck Ferris: District Eight**

 **Day Three:**

 **10th: Zahara Denmore: District Three:**

Hiding in the shadows had gotten her pretty far but at this point she was over confident. She thought that she had it in the bag so she emerged from hiding. She had been watching Felicite from afar and just wanted to have her title as victor already so she took a chance and ran at her. With one swift move, felicite stabbed her in the side and she went down. Her last words were about being with her mother again.

 **9th: Roman Bentley: District Four:**

He had noticed there were self portraits of all the tributes lining the hallways. The other tributes had smiling pictured but his was frowning. He got closer to look at the details on his portrait and some sort of evil version of him came out and grabbed him, squeezing his neck and then dragging him in.

 **The feast:**

The tributes were really hungry. Climbing stairs and wandering around a giant hotel really took its toll on them. When the announcement came over the loudspeaker that there would be food in the breakfast room, some of the tributes didn't hesitate. Taffy arrived first and no one was there so she ate as much as she could. Alleluia was weak from hitting her head on the wall and desperately needed water. Gillian helped carry her to the breakfast room and was helping her drink water. They didn't see Taffy as a threat so they just let her be. Cole stumbled upon them. Gillian got up to question him but deemed him harmless. He was standing by the table with drinks on it when he felt a sharp pain in his leg. Alleluia wanted him gone and had tried to stab him with a fork. He grabbed her by the hair and pushed her up against the wall. She didn't have enough energy to fight so she just let it happen. Soon enough, her eyes went dull and Cole took off running. He met up with Irene in the hallway and she told him to wait for her. Irene was pissed off that her allies were killed and went in the breakfast room with a vengeance. While Gillian was drinking she sliced the back of her neck with a machete and tossed her body aside. She saw taffy shoving pastries in her backpack and stabbed her in the stomach. In her rage she went back to meet with Cole but when he turned around to start running, she stabbed him in the back. Being so high from adrenaline she didn't realize that an arrow had been shot into her back. She looked down and noticed the arrow sticking out of her front too and then fell down.

 **8th: Alleluia Damon: District One**

 **7th: Gillian Donnan: District Two**

 **6th: Taffy England: District Five**

 **5th: Cole Pagny: District Twelve**

 **4th: Irene Holland District Twelve.**

 **Day Four**

 **3rd: Laelia Omri: District Nine**

She was so close to going home that she could taste it. She was walking in the hallway looking at all the pictures of the fallen tributes. She felt so bad but she was so ready to get back home. She noticed Ambrose looking at his portrait too and went to go strike up a conversation to try and manipulate him into trusting her. Arturo had tears streaming down his face because he also was so close to getting home. He didn't know how he had made it this far. Having Asperger's he thought he was going to be the first to go and he was so proud of himself. A pained look came across his face and before Laelia could even get a word out, he shoved an ice pick into her gut.

 **2nd place: Ambrose Granada: District Nine:**

Felicite and Ambrose met in the Lobby. They circled each other for a long time without saying anything. Neither of them wanted to make the first move but they wanted to get home so badly. Ambrose had sweating dripping off of his body because he was so nervous and Felicite had a look of hope in her eyes. Ambrose took a deep breath and ran for Felicite. He grabbed her by the hair and hit her head on the bell that sat on top of the desk. She managed to throw him off and get on top of him. After apologizing over and over again she squeezed his neck and shoved a hotel room key deep into his heart. His eyes went dark.

 **Victor: Felicite "Lissy" Blue: District Four**

She fell to her knees and cried out loud. In between sobs, she looked up and saw all the lights in the hotel come back on, all of the other portraits of the tributed vanished off of the walls leaving only hers. A spotlight shined down on her picture. She rose from the ground and walked over to her portrait but she didn't want to look at it, it looked different somehow. It looked important, like a victor. She smiles and wiped her tears. Being the girl that cared too much never got her anywhere. She did what he had to do to go home and she was proud of herself. The first thing she was going to do; proclaim her love for the boy she swore she didn't love. She realized that life puts her in situations sometimes that are less than ideal but when you want something bad enough, you make it happen. She had a new appreciation for life and she was going to take full advantage of that.

 **People were probably high key expecting this and I really am sorry. This might be a really bad summary but I tried my best. I had no idea how to go about doing this. I hope that you all understand and will consider sending me a tribute for my story that I promise I won't summarize. To the people that were still reading and reviewing, thank you so much. It means more to me than you know. You are the best.**

 **XOXO**

 **Jenna.**

 **QOTD: Do you hate me? ;)**


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